Just Act Normal
by April Rane
Summary: Sequel to "Breaking Point," but works as stand alone. Jacob and Renesmee move to Denver with their friends in an attempt to have normal lives for a little change. Normal shenanigans ensue. Rating for smexin and language. Post BD, canon.
1. Sex in Denver

_a/n Hello, all! I was so sorely tempted to set this in a town called Normal (there is a Normal, IL, where my alma mater is, a Normal, AL, and a Normalville, PA, but I decided it was way too cliché), but instead, we're doing Denver, as planned. Because I like snow and mountains. So there. Don't know much about Denver. Anybody reading this from Denver? PM me. I need a beta. I am a one woman show. Always have been. Kind of frustrating. Ah, well. On with the show!_

_If you've not read _Breaking Point_, that's okay. I'm trying to make this as user friendly as possibly. And it kind of sucked. Not my best. Ah, well. To make life easier, though, I will let you get away with not going back and reading it by saying that Alma, Seth's imprint, is Jasper's daughter (in my universe-o-fun). They just found out. Aaaaaaaaand... Away we go!_

**CHAPTER 1—SEX IN DENVER**

Jacob Black sat in his favorite recliner looking out the bay window of his house while his wife unpacked, humming to herself.

_His_ chair. _His _house. _His_ wife.

He smiled.

Today marked the one week anniversary of their move to Denver, Colorado. It was Labor Day, and their new house had a perfect view of the fireworks some neighbor was setting off. They didn't have to leave their living room if they didn't want to. However, across the cul-du-sac Jacob could see Seth and Alma setting up lawn chairs, coolers, a fire pit, and a huge array of food ranging from Tex-Mex to potato chips.

Smiling again, Jacob recalled the events that had led to Seth and Alma joining them in Denver. It had been hard for Alma to leave her newfound family behind her in New Hampshire, but Jasper and Alice had promised to visit whenever Edward and Bella came to see Renesmee. She'd agreed, hugged Jasper goodbye, and headed off to Colorado, shuddering along the way as she thought of the snow and high elevation as opposed to her warm, Gulf side home in Texas.

A soft _thump_ brought him back to the present and he glanced up as he heard Renesmee swear.

"You okay?"

"Fine!" she called down. "Just dropped a box. And... it ripped. Fuck!" she screamed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

A moment later she was clumping gracelessly down the stairs. She climbed straight into his lap, snuggling against his chest. She huffed angrily, and Jacob smiled as he buried his face in her hair. "Sorry, baby," he said, trying not to laugh.

"No, you're not," she muttered, but she buried herself deeper into his arms. "What time are we going to Seth and Alma's?"

"An hour or so," he said. "Why?"

"No reason." Her fingers toyed with the front of his shirt, tugging at the neck and playing with the hair on his chest. "Just curious." Her lips followed her hands and he groaned.

"Windows, baby," he reminded her softly, sliding his hands under her butt as she straddled him in his chair. "Kitchen?"

"We've already done the kitchen," she said kissing him, "and the bathroom," another kiss, "and the upstairs bedrooms," another one, this one a little lower, "and every room but the living room."

"We've done it a lot since we've been here," he mused, trying to seem unconcerned. "Still, baby, windows."

"Solution." She climbed out of his lap, and, grinning wickedly, moved across to the bay windows. She waved cheerfully at Alma and Seth, who waved back, eyebrows raised, then reached out to her sides and brought her hands quickly together. "Curtains."

She was on his lap again before he could blink. He stared at the red curtains that matched he couch. "When did you put those in?"

She laughed softly, her warm, fragrant breath rushing past his ear, her words making him shudder with anticipation. "After we fucked in every other room of the house but this one."

He moaned, his head falling back as she slid out of his lap and onto her knees between his legs. She was smiling coyly up at him, her brown eyes full of mischief as her fingers quickly undid his jeans and yanked them out from under him. She pulled his shirt off, leaving him in only his boxers, and stepped back. She reached up behind her head to let her curly hair fall around her shoulders. It cascaded down to her curved waist. She slowly, one button at a time, undid her shirt and even more slowly slid it down her arms. It hit the floor with a soft brush of cotton. There was nothing else under her shirt, and she smiled as she unbuttoned her shorts and slid them off. Nothing under there, either.

"Did you bother with _anything_ this morning?" Jacob asked, staring at her bared skin as she stepped toward him.

"Yes." She knelt again and pulled his boxers down, tossing them over her shoulder and getting back to her feet. "Clothes."

He laughed and reached out. His hands fit to her sides, curving with her like they always did. He tugged her closer and she came willingly, her knees on either side of his hips in the big chair. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that this was exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd bought this chair. There was just enough room for her to straddle him, and he groaned when she reached down to recline the chair and shove him back.

Beautiful.

Pulling her down, he cradled her head with his hand, bringing her face down to his so he could kiss her. She moaned softly as she sank down onto him, rocking slowly on top of him.

It occurred to him, not for the first time since coming to Denver, that no one was going to come knocking on their door to make snide comments. There were no parents, no prying, bored relatives that never slept. Just them. And Seth and Alma across the street.

Just normal.

Normal sex was, so far, pretty amazing. Right now, Jacob was staring up at his wife in wonder thinking that she'd never been quite this unrestrained before. She was moaning, arching her back, as she bounced up and down on his lap. He watched as her breasts bounced along with her hips, her long hair brushing his bare thighs as her head tilted back.

"Lean back more, baby," he whispered, wondering how far back she could go with him still inside her.

She went back. She bent far enough back to grab his ankles as she moved over him. The sight of her, stretched out and bare, her body flushed with pleasure and exertion, turned him on almost as much as the fact that they were making love in their living room in their house. The house he'd bought for them with money he'd saved form working in a garage in New Hampshire for two years.

Gazing up, Jacob was amazed for what felt like the millionth time at what a sexual being Renesmee was. He'd watched her grow up, from a baby, to a toddler, to a little girl, young lady, teenager, and finally the woman she was now. At no point could he ever remember her being the type of woman to wear dark red fuck-me heals with a black garter belt and matching bra and panties to welcome him home, like she had the first night he'd come home after she'd moved into his house in New Hampshire. Somehow, when they were together, all shyness melted away leaving a deviant in its wake.

She was anything but shy with him today. Her moans were quickly turning into screams, her body moving faster and faster until he wondered how _anyone_, half vampire or not, could move so fast. Her head snapped up and her eyes opened, revealing dilated pupils surrounded by a band of brown. She was close.

Jacob lost control, flipping up the reclined chair so that she landed on her back on the living room floor, with him still inside her. She moaned, a long keening sound that signaled that she was almost done. He swung her legs up to rest on his shoulders and finished them off, pounding into her in a way that would have been painful to anyone else.

She was made for him, body and soul. Her body was built to handle everything from gentle love making to rough, up against the counter sex. Her soul complimented his when it needed to, and matched it in other ways. As he lay on the plush carpet of their house, he smiled.

Normal was fucking amazing.

* * *

Later, after a shower and more messing around, Jacob and Renesmee made their way across the street to Seth and Alma's little house. They weren't the only ones out, and several of the neighbors were peering over at the four newcomers with curiosity.

Renesmee handed the bowl of potato salad she'd made off to Seth, and he and Jacob quickly busied themselves firing up the grill.

"Look at them," she said, laughing as the guys began to argue over charcoal quality. "They're such men."

Alma laughed and held out a beer to Renesmee. "That's our guys," she laughed. "If it's got anything to do with food, they're on it faster than you can snap your fingers."

"You making fun of me?" Seth called over.

"No, baby, not a bit!" Alma snorted as she turned away from Seth and took another drink. "So y'all liking your new house?" She was smirking. "I like those new curtains you put in."

Renesmee felt her face heat up a little. "Thanks. They match the couch."

"Uh-huh." Nonchalantly, Alma nodded toward the Black house. "May wanna make sure you actually _close_ them next time, though. Gave the neighbors quite the show." Her electric blue eyes twinkled merrily.

There was a clatter as Jacob dropped the lid of the grill. "What?"

"Oh, my God." Burying her face in her hands, Renesmee made her way to a lawn chair. "I can't believe this is happening to me."

"Oh, yeah, that lady two houses down?" Alma turned to Jacob. "She was out walking her dog, then she glanced over with a 'what-the-hell' look on her face and done took off down the street, walking faster than a barefoot baby on concrete!" By now, she was laughing through her words.

"Wait!" Seth had finished starting the grill and made his way over. "If you're talking about Jake and Ness and the chair show, I want to be involved, too! This is good normal shit we can write home about!"

"I'm not writing home to my parents and telling them that the new neighbors first impression of me was—"

"Your ass?"

Renesmee reached over to take a swat at Alma, but the blonde hopped easily out of the way, laughing. "Come on," she said, laughing, "there's nothing odd about seeing two people going at it like rabbits. It's just funny as hell knowing what your reaction's gonna be!"

"Alma, you are so lucky I love you and that your dad would beat the hell out of me if I killed you right now," Renesmee growled, putting her face back in her hands.

"Hell, he'd probably get a kick out of hearing about it." Alma looked thoughtful for a moment, then added, "I wonder if I ought to call him tonight after the show and tell him about the fireworks that were going off this afternoon."

"Alma!"

By now, Jake and Seth were both howling with laughter. Seth stopped suddenly and stood up straight, turning to Jacob to whisper, "There. That's the lady from two doors down." He snorted with laughter again and turned to find his beer.

"Oh, my God, this is not happening to me right now," Renesmee moaned again.

"Here she comes," Seth said quietly, the sound of restrained laughter plain in his voice. "Her and her husband and the dog."

"Hello!" A middle aged woman, maybe in her middle thirties, was walking over toward them, waving her hand and dragging her husband behind her. "You've got to be our new neighbors!"

"Yep, Jake and Seth known each other since they were little kids," Alma said, smiling as she held out a hand in greeting. Fortunately, it was a cool night and it was easy to attribute her warm hands to the blazing fire in the pit. "Had to get houses across from each other. I'm Alma, and this is Seth." She smiled charmingly as she introduced herself, and Renesmee had to work to refrain from glaring at her newest cousin.

"I'm Gwen Jones, and this is my husband, George," she said, dragging him closer. George nodded his head at Seth, smiling slightly as he shook Alma's hand.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Jacob stepped in. "I'm Jacob Black," he said, smiling as he shook George's hand, then Gwen's. She blushed as she shook his. "This is my wife, Renesmee."

"That's an interesting name," Gwen said, smiling at Renesmee and peering down at her. "Is it a family name?"

"Yes," she replied, standing up and smiling a strained smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones."

"Oh, Mrs. Jones makes me feel so old, please call me Gwen," she gushed. "Oh, I just feel like we're all going to be such good friends."

From where he had moved to the grill, Seth snickered. When Alma led the Joneses over to the beer and appetizers, insisting they stay for a bite to eat, Jacob threw his empty can at Seth.

Normal was... interesting.

_a/n Yep, decided we're just going for the M rating from the beginning. More Jake and Nessie this time, I promise. Updates will come... sometime. I'm a busy girl. Must finish college, must finish college... Final stretch! December, here I come! Out of my way, bitches!_

_R/R, tell me what you think!_


	2. Margarita Mayhem and Master Plans

_a/n I planned this chapter in the shower. Amazing where inspiration strikes. Takes place about three weeks after the last chapter. Heavy drug references in this chapter, but in a _Pineapple Express _or _Half Baked_ kind of way. You know, funny. Ha ha._

**CHAPTER 2—MARGARITA MAYHEM AND MASTER PLANS**

The house was quiet. The only sounds were the wind outside, the occasional car passing on a busier street several blocks away, and the sound of their breathing. Jacob was lying on his back, his mouth hanging open and one arm thrown over his head, exhausted from another day in the shop. Renesmee had been watching him sleep for three hours, but she still couldn't sleep.

"Honey?" Renesmee rolled onto her side and whispered softly. "Jake? You awake?"

He snored, and she sighed, rolling to her other side and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Sighing heavily, she climbed out of bed and made her way slowly down the stairs and into the living room. Glancing around, she decided it would be a good time to put Jacob's recliner to its intended use.

Curling her legs underneath her, Renesmee settled into the big chair and reached for the remote. Slowly, she flipped through the channels, finding nothing but infomercials and bad movies. She was just thinking about trying to find a book when her Blackberry buzzed on the table next to her.

There was a text message from Alma, and it made Renesmee laugh.

_Can't sleep. Seth's snoring. Making early morning margaritas. Want?  
_

Smiling, Renesmee made her way back upstairs. As she climbed the stairs, she texted back, _Over in a minute._

When she had changed into sweatpants, she made her way across the street to Alma's. The kitchen light was on, and she could hear the sound of the blender running. She let herself in the front door and made her way to the kitchen, where she found Alma pouring margaritas into two large glasses. The blonde woman smiled and held one out. "Don't you love that we don't need as much sleep as the guys?"

"It sucks," Renesmee said, smiling as she took the drink from Alma and sipped at it. The taste of sugar, raspberry, and tequila hit her tongue, and she smiled. "Tasty."

"I used Patron," Alma said, taking a drink of her own margarita. "Wanna sit on the deck so we don't wake Seth up?"

"I don't think a chainsaw could wake Seth up, but sure."

At that moment, the sound of a monstrous snore echoed down from upstairs.

"Good God," Renesmee muttered. "He's worse than Jake."

Alma smiled, and her blue eyes twinkled. "Other than that, he's the perfect man, so I'll take it."

They made their way slowly out to the deck, Alma leading with Renesmee a foot or so behind her. Alma stepped out into the chilly evening, frowning a little bit as she slid the door shut behind Renesmee.

"See, I know I don't feel it, per say, but I just like blistering heat," she grumbled. "I am looking forward to seeing snow, I guess."

"Have you ever seen snow?" Renesmee hadn't thought of that before, but Alma had lived in Texas, not leaving very often.

"No," she said. "Not anywhere but in pictures and on TV. I've always wanted to have a snowball fight." She smiled, looking up at the sky. "Isn't it supposed to start in a couple of months?"

"Daddy said it's not unusual to have snow in the end of October sometimes," Renesmee said, before taking another drink of her margarita. "So, hopefully before too much longer."

Alma nodded and leaned back in her chair. "Me, too." She reached across to the patio table and picked up the pack of cigarettes that lay there. She lit one, then exhaled, letting the smoke out.

Renesmee frowned. "How long have you smoked?"

Alma smiled, laughing quietly. "Since the seventies," she said, laughing. "Something about the disco era..." She shook her head, and sighed heavily. "Oh, the seventies. How I miss the seventies." She laughed.

"My dad always says he hated the seventies," Renesmee replied, interested. "What'd you like about it?"

"Your dad," Alma said slowly, rolling the cigarette between her fingers, "is a vampire and unaffected by any kind of mind altering substance." Alma grinned.

"Oh." Then Renesmee understood. "_Oh._"

"Oh." Alma took another drag of her cigarette. "I learned early on that my body burns the chemicals off just fast enough when it needs to that it's impossible to overdose. We're too hot, and we have that vampire defense mechanism."

"You _tried_ to overdose yourself?" Renesmee couldn't help the shock in her voice. She couldn't imagine doing something like that.

"I was curious," Alma said, shrugging. "I already knew I needed to take almost twice what a human takes to feel anything at all, so I just kept taking and taking one night. I was absolutely out of my mind, and I lay on the beach for two days. Never been so sick in my life." She winced. "I don't recommend taking that much of anything."

"What did you take?" The morbid curiosity was transferring to Renesmee.

"Acid," Alma said simply.

Renesmee shook her head. "God." She stared at Alma, trying to imagine her friend tripping on that much of a deadly chemical. "What was it like?"

"I don't remember a lot of it," she said. "Do you remember Emma?"

"Who?"

"The vampire who was with me that first day you came to find me."

"Oh." Renesmee had forgotten all about that. "Yeah."

"She found me lying on the beach, laughing and talking to myself." She smiled slightly. "I guess I thought she was a purple gorilla when she showed up. She knew I wasn't... normal. She knew Maria, and Maria had told her about me. Emma had come to see me for herself, and she found a tripping mess."

Renesmee was quiet for a minute. "Did you ever take drugs again after that?"

Alma burst out laughing. "Honey, I drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. What the hell makes you think I'd stop taking drugs?" She was still chuckling as she reached under her chair and pulled out a little plastic box, the kind that was used by small children to hold their school supplies. "I just take them in moderation." She opened the box away from Renesmee. "And part of the reason I wanted to come to Colorado was this." She took out a plastic bag filled with some kind of dried plant. "Partially decriminalized marijuana." A grin spread across her face as she dangled the bag in front of her. "Want some?"

Despite what Alma had just said, the words tumbled out before Renesmee could stop them. "What if we get caught?" she whispered desperately. "What if the neighbors—"

"_If_ we get caught," Alma said, rolling her eyes as she began to load a little glass pipe, "we get a little measly one hundred dollar fine. And as for the neighbors, fuck them."

Renesmee raised her eyebrows. "You already don't like the neighbors?"

Alma grinned wickedly. "Just the Jonses, specifically Mrs. Jones, and I've got big plans for her." She lit her lighter and brought it down. She inhaled, held in for a moment, and passed the pipe to Renesmee. "It won't kill you," she said, her voice croaking a bit as she tried to hold the smoke in and talk at the same time.

"I guess," Renesmee said, and she slowly took the pipe from Alma.

Several margaritas and more marijuana later, Alma started telling Renesmee about the Jonses.

Gwen Jones thought Renesmee was a bit of a scarlet woman, having really nasty sexual relations ("Thankfully, with her husband!") in the middle of her living room in the middle of the day. George thought it was funny, and that his wife was a prude. Gwen thought George was a moron. George wanted his wife to get the stick out of her ass and just let the neighbors have sex ("At least that means someone _somewhere_ is having sex!").

George spent every Tuesday night with the guys at a strip club, saying he was on the other side of town on business and that he didn't want to make the hour drive, so he stayed with a buddy from work those nights. He didn't ever sleep with any of the girls, he just liked to look ("Gwen would flip her shit if she found out") and go home not worrying about how drunk he was. Gwen spent every Tuesday with her twenty-four year old gardener, lying on her back, on her knees, up against the wall, not worrying about her husband coming home early.

She spent the rest of her time gossiping, often about how the little tartlet down the street, Mrs. Black, and their friends, Seth and Alma ("Honestly, an unmarried couple living in a huge house like that and not being married?").

Alma had spent her month in Denver formulating a master plan of extreme revenge while Seth had been at work.

Every Wednesday morning at 5:10 on the dot, the gardener, whose name Alma had learned from the screaming was Andrew, snuck out of the Jones residence, got in his car, and drove off in his stupid SUV. At 5:15 on the dot, George pulled in to the driveway, parked where the gardener had just been, and crept back inside to his "sleeping" wife to get ready for work, which he left for at 9:00.

Alma's master plan to ruin the bitch down the street, as she had come to refer to Gwen, involved a massive amount of packing tape, duct tape, more packing tape, Seran wrap, and permanent markers.

It was three in the morning when two drunken, extremely stoned characters, dressed in black pants, black long sleeved shirts, and black ski masks giggled their way through back yards and onto the Jonses driveway.

"Alma?" Renesmee giggled uncontrollably. "What if somebody sees us?"

"Hell, kid, that's what the ski masks are for," she said, tossing Renesmee a roll of tape. "They can't tell we're woman or see our faces. Fuck them."

Renesmee giggled.

"Seriously, if you don't shut up, I'm doing this on my own."

"No!" Renesmee clapped a hand over her mouth. "That dumb bitch wants to sit around all day and call me a whore? Fuck that!"

"Jesus, kid, watch your god damn language."

Alma nearly lost it when Renesmee turned to face the big house, flipping the windows off before she turned around, pulled her pants down, and wiggled her bare butt at the house. "Pull your pants up!"

"Sorry." Renesmee stifled another laugh when she heard Alma snort a little bit. "I couldn't help myself."

There was the sound of unraveling tape as Alma grasped the tab at the end of a fresh roll of duct tape. "Let's get to work. We have to get this done in the next hour. And that's figuring no one shows up."

Under her mask, Renesmee grinned, the mischief in her smile making her eyes light up.

_Two Hours Later_

Their "little job," which was meant to take no more than an hour, probably less, had gone over.

Scrambling to get out of the way, Alma and Renesmee clambered over a few hedges and into Renesmee's gated, newly bush-lined, yard and in perfect line of sight with the house just down the street.

So absorbed were they in waiting for Gwen's lover to emerge that neither of them heard the unusually soft tread of large feet creeping in behind them. They did not see the two large hands creep up to cover their mouths just before they squealed in shock.

"Shh!" Jacob hissed, his head between the two of theirs. "Where the hell have you been?"

"What do you mean?" Alma muttered, her voice muffled by Jacob's large hand.

"Seth and I have been looking for you since four this morning!"

Renesmee's head slowly turned toward Alma's, just as Alma's turned toward hers. _Impossible_. But the only plausible theory.

Around four a.m., Renesmee and Alma, still drunk on margaritas, had heard footsteps in the street, and had scrambled behind a neighbor's house and under a deck. The footsteps had continued on and off, with Alma and Renesmee repeating their run-and-hide method, until 4:45. They'd had no idea who was out in the street, opening and closing doors, getting in and out of cars.

The entire time, it had been Seth and Jacob looking for Alma and Renesmee.

Renesmee started to giggle uncontrollably, and Alma was joining her within seconds. Jacob's face turned first disbelieving, then confused. Then, as their voices stopped and a college kid in his twenties crept from the house, did he realize what was going on.

The car parked in the driveway was coated in layers and layers of tape, and what looked like Seran wrap. Jacob's eyes widened in comprehension when the man began gesticulating wildly at the car, and Gwen Smith came rushing out in a bathrobe, a look of utter horror on her face.

"You didn't," he whispered, half in horror, half in supreme amusement.

Renesmee's only response was to nod silently as her eyes widened in comprehension of what she had just done. She buried her face in Jacob's chest, laughing and sobbing happily at the same time.

"I'm horrible, Jake!" she managed around her chortles. "My parents would so totally ground me for this, but they're not here!"

Five minutes later, on the dot, there was the sound of another car approaching. George Smith's car came to a jerking stop outside his house, where the young man was frantically going at his car with scissors while George raced toward his wife, a pained and furious expression on his face. She was talking to him in a low voice no one else, not even her lover, would have heard. However, with super hearing, the small audience, which now included Seth, could hear everything clearly.

"How could you!" George was furious as he waved toward the young man.

"George," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "let's just go inside. Just forget this."

"Forget this?" George said, his voice breaking. "You want me to forget some twenty-something yo yo is in my driveway with a backpack untaping his car while you watch in your negligee?"

"George, please..."

"This is about those kids, isn't it?" George hissed. "You're fucking jealous of a couple of kids? They're so young! What do they have that we don't have ten times better?"

"Where have you been, George?" Gwen cried. "Where have you—"

"I've been looking, Gwen," George said, his voice softer and pained. "Just looking."

Jacob put a hand on one of each girl's elbows. Gently, he tugged them back inside, and they headed into the living room with Seth bringing up the rear. They ate breakfast together, and a smiling Alma explained why she'd let this happen.

Two days ago, Alice had called, saying that the neighbors were going to have some kind of blowout in a month or so, and it would threaten to expose them. She'd provided an alternative event she'd considered, that she needed put into action. All she knew was the end result—a car wrapped in tape and plastic with the couple fighting. Alma quickly put a plan into action.

A week later, Gwen was out on her front lawn in the afternoon helping moving men bring in a new television, an anniversary present to George. That night, George came home with a diamond necklace. The corny kind form Zales, but still, Alice had said, diamonds are diamonds.

Seth and Alma watched it from their back deck, enjoying a last barbecue and beer night with just the two of them and a few steaks, content with their lives for the first time in a while.

Jacob and Renesmee watched it from his chair, cuddled up as the cold October weather began to sink in, like they had in New England, and waited.

Everything was just...

Normal.

_a/n Hope you enjoyed! Again, will update when I can. I've got two stories going on at once, along with school. Peace out!_


	3. Hunting for Trouble

_a/n For your patience, I offer you little lemons. Enjoy! Again, be warned, in my head, Alma has developed into a pothead. She's taking on the personality of a friend of mine who is a hoot and a half, so some of the things that happen in this chapter I've seen her do. It's hysterical. I like her more that way. Adds character._

**CHAPTER 3—HUNTING FOR TROUBLE **

The snow fell silently, as snow usually did, around the predator, who wore beat up Converse shoes, old jeans, and a much abused t-shirt as she stalked her prey. Jacob followed, as silent as her, watching in his wolf form. There was not much more beautiful than Renesmee as she stalked her prey. She would follow a kill for a while, just for the sport of it, before she pounced, flying through the air in a whirl of pale skin and bronze hair. It was all he could do to keep from sighing—this was her third kill of the evening—but he knew better. If she'd been stalking a mule deer or, God forbid, one of the innumerable mountain goats that inhabited Colorado, he would have given her a little nudge, the one that meant, "I'm tired and want to go to bed and if you'd like me to be awake for sex, we have to leave now."

Unfortunately for Jacob, or fortunately, depending on one's outlook, his grumpy wife had caught a whiff of something delightful—Colorado mountain lion.

Well, like father like daughter, he supposed, and she wanted to savor. He'd complain, if she didn't look so damn sexy.

A soft hiss slipped from Renesmee's teeth, and Jacob brought his attention back to her. She rocked forward on the balls of her feet and shot off into the velvet night after her prey. He raced after her, watching the movement of her muscles under her jeans. He watched the muscles in her arms, so strong and sleek, as she grabbed on to the cougar and brought it down. Her lips pulled back from her teeth and she bit down, draining the massive animal.

It was moments like these that reminded Jacob that his little wife, by all means a petite and fragile looking woman, could take him in a fight if she wanted.

Her head lifted then, and she sighed contentedly. "Finally," she said, brushing herself off, "a decent meal."

After she'd disposed of the animal's corpse, they raced back to the car, neck and neck until she broke away at the end, just making it back before he did. Her delighted laughter caressed his ears, and he pounced at her, phasing back to human just before her back hit the snow that cushioned her fall. He peppered her neck in kisses, pulling her in close. He could feel the snow melting around them, and knew that, as erotic as it would be to make love to her right here, they would be soaked, and wind up soaking the car on the way back. He pulled away, reaching into the passenger seat for his jeans and shirt. He glanced back to see her pouting a few feet away, her full bottom lip jutting out just a bit. He groaned.

"Don't look at me like that," he begged, "I can't stand that look."

Her response was a little whimper.

"Honey, we'll get soaked."

Her pout disappeared, and she grinned wickedly. "That's the idea." She grabbed his hand. "Come on. I want to show you something."

He followed her off the road, and after a minute or so, his ears picked up on the sounds of water moving. The trees broke open suddenly, and his eyes widened.

"Did you know this was here?"

"Yep." She grinned and pulled her shirt over her head. "Alma told me about it. She said she's never seen anybody out here since the road's so bad and we're in a weird spot in the mountains." He watched as she slid out of her jeans and tossed them onto the same rock where she'd placed her shirt. She turned away from him, her hands coming back to undo her bra. She tossed that aside, as well, before slowly sliding her last article of clothing down her legs, bending over at the waist as she did so.

Completely bare to the elements, she glanced over her shoulder and winked before walking gracefully to the steaming hot spring she'd led him to and jumped in. She popped up a moment later, her hair fanning out in the water as she floated on her back. The moonlight broke through the clouds just then and lit her skin with a ethereal glow, and her brown eyes twinkled as she stared up at the night sky. It was one of the most sensual things he'd seen in his life.

He was out of his clothes and in the water faster than he believed himself capable. She grinned over at him and swam to a little outcropping of rock just beneath the surface, situating herself on it before beckoning him over with her finger. He swam over, and unable to help himself, pulled his arm back before shoving it forward, splashing her with the naturally heated water. She shrieked with laughter, shielding herself with her hands, but it was useless as he grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her back in. She resurfaced, spluttering, before splashing him back. His eyes closed in reflex, and the next thing he knew, her hands were on top of his head, shoving him under. He could hear her laughing, and he swam under her to grab her by the waist and return the favor, pulling just hard enough to get her head under.

The snow fluttered around them, melting as soon as it hit the water, as they both resurfaced, laughing and splashing. He caught her around the waist, pulling her to him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she growled softly when he nipped her neck as he shoved them back against the rock.

Renesmee after hunting was a different Renesmee. The feral part of her released, she was more animalistic in her love making, and tonight was even more exceptional than usual. He loved when she was like this, growling and hissing with pleasure as he let his hands wander her perfect body. They'd never made love outside before, but he couldn't imagine it getting any better than this. Water surrounded them as he slammed his body against hers, hearing the cracking of the rock behind her. Small waves began forming in the little pool, and she screamed with pleasure, the sound echoing back and out into the mountains. No one would hear them, no one would find them, and he thrust into her with abandon, feeling her body tighten around his. He hissed when he felt the delicious pain of her sharp teeth sinking into him, letting go inside her, wanting to fill every part of her as she drank from him.

He floated for a minute, still inside her, and felt her smile against him. Her warm tongue lapped against his abuse skin, and he moaned softly as he felt his skin healing. She moved her lips against his ear, kissing the flesh there before she whispered, "You taste so good, baby."

Jacob chuckled. "You're not so bad yourself," he said, then hoisted her out of the water and onto the rock. He pulled her legs apart and pushed her, hard, back against the rock before burying his face between her thighs. She cried out in shock before the sound turned to a moan, and he felt her fingers twine in his hair, pulling him closer.

It was quite possibly the most amazing hunting trip he'd ever been on.

* * *

Alma smiled as she hammered the last nail into place, securing the new backboard into the island. Why on earth drunken kitchen sex had been a good idea last night, she still wasn't sure, but she'd been damned if it hadn't been amazing. She was just thinking of calling Renesmee for a spieling session when the front door of her house banged open, and Renesmee shouted, "I fucking love you!"

She laughed. "You went hunting last night, didn't you?"

Renesmee came around the corner, dropping her coat onto the island. "Yes, we did," she said, dropping into a chair and reaching over to take the lit joint Alma had in the ash tray.

"Hey!" Alma tried to slap her away, failing as Renesmee darted out of her seat and around the counter. "I give you an amazing sex location and fond memories and you come into my house and steal my weed?"

Renesmee rolled her eyes, hearing the teasing tone in Alma's voice. "Shut up, you love me."

"And you love me, apparently."

"You wouldn't even be in Denver if it wasn't for me." She held out the joint. "What's with the hammer and nails?"

Alma grinned "You're not the only one who had crazy sex last night."

"Oh, really?" Renesmee grinned. "Dish session time?"

"Oh, yes."

By the time Seth came home from work three hours later, they'd gone through half of Alma's weed, two bottles of wine, and advanced to Wii bowling.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Alma screamed as Renesmee tried to take her controller. "I'd let you stop if your boy came home!" Alma wrapped her arms around a laughing Seth, who pressed his lips against hers, leaning into her as her back arched.

"Hey! Not fair!" Renesmee pouted. "I don't have a boy to make out with."

"Shut up." Alma reached over, grabbed the empty wine bottle, and threw it. In her inebriated state, it flew past Renesmee's head before it smashed through the window, through the bushes, and out into the street, hitting a passing car at a blinding speed. The car jerked to a stop and, after a silent, tense second, they watched in horror as Gwen from down the street got out to stare, shocked, at her damaged bumper.

"Oh, fuck."

"Shit." Seth crept slowly to the window. "I don't think she saw where it came from," he whispered. "She's getting back in her car."

"Fuck!" Alma's hands were clapped over her mouth in shock. "Shit! What happens when she sees our window is broken?"

"You can't see this window from the street," Seth said, and he leaned out, grabbing the shutters and yanking them closed.

Alma pulled her hands down. "Does she look pissed?"

"Yeah." Seth moved to the other window. "She's standing in her driveway freaking out."

"Holy shit." Alma turned, a shocked look on her face. "Holy fucking shit!"

Before she could stop it, a giggle burst from Renesmee's lips and quickly elevated to hysterical laughter. Alma joined her, and the pair of them collapsed in a heap on the floor. Seth heaved a sigh, making his way into the kitchen and grabbing the baggie of weed as he walked.

"Jesus!" The sound of him lighting something in the kitchen met Renesmee's ears. "You should see the front end of her car!"

"You should go fix it!" Alma called. "She won't be suspicious if you go over and offer to help her with the body work!"

Seth came back in, his eyes twinkling. "You're the only woman I wanna do body work on, baby," he said, and laughed heartily as Alma's cheeks flushed.

There was a knock on the front door and all three of them froze. A moment later, the door opened and Jacob's voice called out, "Who broke Gwen's car?"

Alma and Renesmee dissolved into giggles again and Seth rolled his eyes, heading around the corner and out of the kitchen. "I'm gonna go see if I can help her out a little," Seth called. His head poked around the doorway and he grinned at Alma. "I'll be home soon. Wear the red thing."

Jacob stepped around Seth and into the kitchen, grabbed his wife, and pulled her out before she could get roped into helping Alma get ready for Seth to come home.

* * *

"You're very bad, you know," Jacob said, watching with a wry smile as his still inebriated wife stumbled around their bedroom several hours later, trying to find her pajamas. "Gwen's car's going to need a new front end paint job, get a dent popped, and she needs a new tire. You're lucky she didn't see you."

"It's not my fault Alma decided to chuck a glass bottle at my head."

"True." Jacob smirked a little. "You could have let it hit you."

"And lose my dignity?" Renesmee came out of the closet, and his mouth fell open. "Never."

"Honey, I don't think you have much dignity," he managed, nodding at the tiny negligee she was wearing.

"This thing?" She shrugged nonchalantly, but Jacob could see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "I'm just hot."

"You sure are," he growled, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her to stand between his legs. "If you're so hot, why don't you just take it off?"

She fake pouted, pulling away. She did a little turn, stopping halfway around so she could wiggle her butt at him. He could see her skin through the black lace, which stopped just where her curvy butt met her legs. She wore nothing underneath.

"You don't like it?" she asked, then she grinned. "Maybe you'd like it better with the shoes."

Jacob reached just far enough to grab her wrist, and he pulled her back to him again. "Maybe tomorrow," he said, sliding his hands under the flimsy material. "I haven't had you since last night and I want you right now."

"Right this second?" She pretended to think about it. "Well..."

He laughed, and threw her to the bed. "Tell you what," he said. "You let me have you now, and I'll make you scream and beg, and we'll do it again later with the shoes. You can even keep the shoes on."

"I like it with the shoes on." She grinned. "Makes you look at me like I'm really sexy."

"Baby," he said, reaching down and yanking off her nightgown, "you're the sexiest lady I know. Now lay back, and I'll show you."

And she did.

_a/n Again, sorry this took so long to get up. Little inconsequential things in life tend to add up until they snowball down on you in a pile of shit and carnage. That's been me for the last two months. Review likes, constructive criticism, general whatnots. Don't flame me. I flame back. I'm a flamer! Woo-hoo!_

_Yeah, the need for real human contact is starting to make me a little coo-koo. Review!_


	4. Grill and Chill

_ilia/n Okay. I know everyone uses this excuse, so I won't do more than say, life sucks. Wait… life? What life? I don't have a life. I'm too busy scrambling to get shit done that should have been done two months ago! Wheee! Ah, well. I've tried writing this chapter several times, so now I'm trying it with stronger coffee. Hope you can taste it _

_Also, a note on Alma. She's from the south, so she says odd things. I love the shit my relatives from Texas and Arkansas say, and I put a lot of that into Alma. That said, you don't want me to type the accent. You'd be confused. Y'all getta reckon it'd be purdy hard ta figgre out what she done gone an' sai, righ? 'Cause dagnabbit, babies, them southernfolk sure as hell know how to cook, but damn if you dunno what the hell they sayin' half the time._

_To anyone from the southern United States—your manners and hat tipping skills are superior to us Yankees _

**CHAPTER 4—GRILL AND CHILL**

"Remind me again why we're doing this?"

"Because, baby, I'm from Texas, and the best way I know of cooking involves grilling." Alma studied a steak on the massive grill. "Y'all like yours rare?"

"I like mine medium, and so does Jake, but you girls both like the blood, so hers can be rare," Seth said, taking a swig of his beer.

It was March, and there were still several feet of snow on the ground, but his girl could no longer contain her Texan genes, and so six t-bone steaks were situated on her grill. The smell of charcoal mixed oddly with the scent of the snow and the bite of the cold air, but his mouth was watering to taste grilled food again.

The screen door opened just then, and Renesmee stuck her head out. "You want a beer?" she asked.

Seth nodded, and Alma rolled her eyes. "You're asking _me_, of all people—me, baby, who, if I were a human, would be an alcoholic—if I want a beer?"

Renesmee's brown eyes rolled back, but the corners of her lips were tugging in a smile. "It was more rhetorical for you. By the way, did Seth tell you Charlie and Sue are flying in next week?" She grinned wickedly before tossing them their beers and flitting back inside.

It was quiet on the deck for a moment, and Seth tentatively took a sip of his beer. "So, my mom and stepdad are coming on Monday?" Damn it. How the hell did he forget to tell her that?

He heard her flip the steaks over before the lid of the grill clanged down. He was almost scared to look at her, but he forced his eyes up.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, one leg popped out to the side. Shit. This was the look Dane Cook said was bad. The electric blue of her eyes was starting to darken to violet, and they were boring into his skull. He flexed his fingers, felt them moved, and made the mistake of breathing a sigh of relief.

She missed nothing.

He felt his muscles tense, then everything slackened and he fell backward onto the snowy deck with a thud. From inside he heard Jake and Nessie laugh, but he was more focused on his peripheral vision, where he could see his beautiful, deadly girlfriend stalking toward him. She moved to stand over him, and he could hear a soft growl rumbling in her throat.

"There's a hole in the island in the kitchen where you fucked me so hard you rammed your knees through it," she said softly, coolly. "The repair guys aren't coming for two weeks. _That's_ going to be fun to explain to your mom. Oh, and our recycling bin?" She laughed darkly, throwing her head back. "The one overflowing with wine and beer bottles? Sure as hell makes me look nice. I need to shampoo the carpet, change the sheets in the guest room, get the bathroom set up with extra towels, clean the entire fucking house, and hide my fucking weed from your cop stepdad, and you're telling me I have three days to do all this?"

Rhetorical. Had to be rhetorical. He still couldn't move. Alma's now violet eyes met his, and he felt a spark of real fear, half afraid that she was going to beat the hell out of him or something.

She didn't. Her eyes faded back to blue and she returned to her grill. Seth could feel when he regained the use of his muscles, and he got to his feet. He tried to wrap his arms around her waist, but she swatted them away. Her eyes were still angry, but a little hurt, too. He tried again to touch her, but she thwacked him hard, and he felt a snap on one of his fingers. He hissed in pain, not surprised when she remained stonily facing the grill.

"I'm going to go get a plate for the steak," he muttered, straightening out his broken finger and feeling it heal as he did so. He slid open the door, coming face to face with a half-amused, half-exasperated looking Jacob, and a sheepish Renesmee.

"Sorry," she said, smiling a little. He recognized it as the same smile she gave Edward when she'd done something wrong. "I didn't mean to make you guys fight."

"No, it's okay," Seth muttered, shoving past them and into the kitchen. "I probably would have forgotten about it until they showed up." He pulled down a plate, and started back to the porch, but something caught his eye and stopped him.

_Alma's head was thrown back, blonde hair cascading down her back to brush the countertop. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open and emitting the most wonderful sounds._

"_Oh, God," she moaned, and he felt her beginning to tighten. "Oh, baby, please."_

"_Please what?" he grunted, snapping his hips to meet hers again. "What do you need, baby?"_

"_Harder," she groaned, "please, Seth, harder."_

_Taking a deep breath, Seth pushed everything he had into her as hard as he could, and he felt the thin plywood of the island start to give under his knees. He didn't care, though. Alma was screaming his name and obscenities and pleading to be fucked harder, so he fucked her as hard as he could._

_When they had both finished, and he helped her down from the counter, she burst into laughter when she saw the damaged island._

"_Nice job, baby," she said, laughing._

_At the time, he'd thought so, too._

Now, he thought of telling his mother what had happened to the island. He didn't know the first thing about carpentry, and there was no way he could get it fixed before they showed up. He heard a soft beeping in the background—Nessie doing something on her phone—as he slumped onto one of the bar stools. He rested the plate on the counter and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm such a fuck up," he moaned. "I thought you were supposed to be the perfect match with your imprint, not someone to piss them off."

At this, Jacob burst out laughing. He sat down next to Seth, still laughing, and slapped him on the back. "Dude," he said, still chuckling, "it's impossible to have a dick and _not_ piss off your woman at some point. It's called a relationship."

"You don't piss off Renesmee," he muttered.

"That's a load of shit," the woman in question said wryly from across the kitchen as she put her Blackberry down. "He pissed me off this morning."

Jacob frowned. "What did I do this morning?"

"You drank the last of the coffee and didn't make more," she said severely. "You know the rule. No blow jobs for the rest of the week if you do that."

Jake groaned. "Sorry babe," he said hopefully, but she was already shaking her head.

"No blow jobs for you," she snapped. "Now, on to more pressing problems. Emmett and Rosalie were in Alaska last I heard, and they've agreed to stop by here tomorrow on their way home and fix your counter. I can help clean, and you and Jacob can do laundry and clean the bathrooms. We've got a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it, so we need to get started tomorrow."

"Why do I have to help?" Jacob whined.

"Make you a deal," she said, and her brown eyes twinkled as she sauntered over to him. She leaned down to rest her hand against his neck, and his eyes darkened in response to whatever she'd communicated to him. She laughed and took the plate from the counter before breezing outside and shutting the door behind her.

"Blow jobs back on?" Seth asked.

"Yep."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Monday morning, Seth found himself running circles around his house trying to make sure everything was ready for his mom and Charlie. He ran through a checklist in his head. Bathrooms, cleaned. Island, fixed, thanks to Emmett, who had shown up yesterday and had it fixed in ten minutes. Laundry, done, folded, empty. Carpet, shampooed and clean of any wine, beer or bong resin. Any hard floor, spotless. Everything was perfect.

And Alma was still angry at him.

He'd decided some time back that Alma's anger was like wine—it strengthened with age before it finally had to be downed in one gulp that made your eyes water and your nose sting a little. She hadn't hit that point yet, and he kind of hoped she wouldn't.

The ride to the airport started out quiet. Seth tried to make conversation with her several times, but she barely replied beyond a yes or a no. After several attempts to get her to talk, Seth finally gave up. When it had been silent for several minutes, and the tension was so thick it almost clogged the air and made it hard to breathe, she spoke.

"I don't wanna fight with your folks here," she said, her voice cool, but he could hear underneath it the upset. "We ought just mend fences before then so they don't think we're fighting."

"We're not fighting," Seth muttered, beginning to feel a little annoyed that she was still clinging to this. Damned hot-headed Texan woman. "_You're_ fighting. I'm trying to get over it."

"Dammit, Seth," she snapped, the rage letting loose at last. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn't have riled her up in the car. "How fuckin' hard is it to tell me your folks were coming? Jesus Christ, man! I been busier than a one legged man at an ass kickin' contest, and all you did the goddamn bathrooms!"

"I did the bathrooms, _and_ the laundry, _and_ scrubbed the kitchen!" Seth shouted, and he felt himself start to tremble.

"You carried on like a baby with a splinter in your thumb for two hours! And that was with Jacob helping you!" she screeched.

Seth slammed on the brakes, thankful that they were at the moment in a residential area. He felt the steering wheel strain under his hands as he tried to breathe. For a moment, Alma looked pissed, then, the anger turned to concern. "Baby?" Her voice shook a little.

"Don't talk to me right now," he ground out. "I'm trying not to phase."

Alma exhaled sharply and turned to look out the window. Seth forced himself to breathe, and after several minutes, he felt calm enough to speak. Just as he opened his mouth, however, to give Alma a piece of his mind, he heard something he'd never heard from her. She sniffled.

"Are you crying?" His voice was stunned and he stared at her in wonder.

"No."

"Don't lie to me, baby," he said softly, and he turned her face to look at him. He'd seen her eyes violet, and was used to the electric blue, but Alma's sad and tear filled eyes were not something for which he was prepared.

Her eyes were darker blue than usual, red rimmed and slightly squinted. Two wet tracks down her face betrayed her shed tears, and when he frowned slightly in concern, she burst into hysterical sobs that sounded painful. He unbuckled quickly and yanked her across the seat to sit on his lap. It was awkward, but he intuitively felt that she needed the closeness.

"Please don't leave me," she whimpered, and her voice broke his heart. She was always so strong, it was easy to forget that under her tough veneer was the bleeding heart of a girl, who had always been on her own, and had since forgotten how to go back to that. He felt her fists wrap themselves in his shirt, clinging to him as if he were going to disappear.

Seth kissed her forehead before burying his face in her hair. "I'm not going anywhere, baby," he murmured into her blonde curls.

She sat in his lap, sobbing, snorting, and sniffling, for another fifteen minutes before he finally felt her calm down. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I suck at relationships."

"No, you don't," he said, lifting her chin so he could see her eyes. They were red and squinty. "You just need to chill a little. We're fine, you're okay."

She nodded and leaned up to kiss him gently before sliding over back into her seat. Once she was buckled in, he reached over to take her hand before pulling back out onto the road. They continued in silence for some time before she suddenly said, "Jesus Christ, I look like a rat's ass after a shit."

Seth couldn't help it, and he burst out laughing. He laughed all the way to the airport, and was still chuckling when they approached the gate.

"Shut up," Alma whispered. "They're going to think we're nuts."

"They already think we're nuts," he said, trying to be serious. It didn't last, and he had to bury his face in her shoulder to hide his hysterical laughter. At this point, he couldn't really recall what was so funny, but every time he looked at his girlfriend's incredulous face, it started up again.

"Seth!" His mother's voice calling his name did nothing, and he was hysterical, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand, as he straightened up. His eyes connected with those of his mother, and he was a little surprised by what he saw.

Her eyes were bright with a few unshed tears, and her huge smile took up most of her face. Behind the tears, the brown eyes were warm and loving as she stared back at him. She opened her arms, and he lifted her off her feet while she laughed. He held on tight, not realizing how happy he was to see her until he had. He was still laughing, and he felt her smile again when she whispered, "I'd ask if you're happy, but I guess I don't need to."

She was right, of course. Moms were always right.

Later that night, when Sue and Charlie were asleep, Seth and Alma snuck out the back door and onto the deck, sticking a case of beer into the snow and burrowing down in the white powder until they were no longer visible to anyone. He kissed her softly, apologized for upsetting her, for being forgetful, for everything he'd done to anger her. She silenced him with a kiss, and he felt her hands sliding down to take his.

"I love you," she whispered, almost inaudibly, but his enhanced hearing picked it up.

He let his hands wrap around her wrists, so tiny compared to his, and rolled them so she was under him. He pinned her arms over her head with one hand, using his other hand to tear away her clothing. The entire time, he could feel her electric eyes on him, as if they were shocking him, and the feelings inside him were something more than love. He knew he could never tell her how much he loved her, how devoted to her he was.

Instead, he spread her legs and slid inside her, keeping her hands pinned over her head while he took her.

When his name tumbled over and over from his lips, he felt tears again, felt them making a path on his face, and before he knew it, she'd wrapped her legs around him while they lay on their sides, him still in her, facing each other on the ground. Her hands, warm and soft, traced the tracks from his tears, before her lips gently touched his face. She shifted closer, and he groaned at the feeling.

This was the woman no one else knew, or would ever know—the soft, loving woman that Alma could be, when with him. She smiled lovingly at him, her blue eyes lighting, and her hands cupped his face. She pulled him to her, kissing him deeply, like she was trying to kiss his soul.

He fell then, shuddering against her soft flesh, feeling it give as he tightened his grip on her, crying out into her mouth, begging her to never stop, moaning his love.

About an hour later, when the clouds finally gave way to stars, they were still moving under them, unseen to anyone but each other.

_a/n Yep. Needed some stronger coffee and a computer that doesn't slow to a crawl when you turn on a word processor. Grr. Anyway, this was one of those "drama" chapters that has to happen for the sake of character development. Next should be a bit more amusing. Suggestions for various shenanigans are always welcome. I don't follow the norm when I write—I have an idea of a starting place, an ending place, and how I want them to behave. A few situations. Otherwise, I'm pretty much a "fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl." My stories deserve the freedom to develop in whatever weird, drunken, drug-induced way they want. _

_Ooo! Crazy sex positions! Sounds odd, but I like contorting the characters __ If you've got an odd one, or potentially painful one, please feel free to let me know. The freakier the better. _

_I like reviews. Leave 'em._


	5. Night with Chelsea

_a/n I am forever getting songs stuck in my head, and I'm hoping that this one is a sign. If only the Blackhawks weren't so amazing, I wouldn't have this song on the brain. It inspired me a little bit. Enjoy. Review. I update even faster when you do._

_Disclaimer: (I know, right?) Lyrics and song belong to the Fratellis._

_This chapter is blatantly dirty. Not smutty, so much-just like a dirty lemon martini. I'm not sure how it happened-I guess Jake and Nessie just wanted to screw. You know, just for the hell of it... Seriously, blame the Stanley Cup for getting "Chelsea Dagger" stuck in my head. Heard it seven times the other night. HAWKS, BABY!  
_

_For the shoes, go to http :/ / www . neimanmarcus . ? itemId=prod61500043 & ecid = NMCIGoogleBaseFeed&ci _ src=14110944 & ci _ sku=X08QT_

**CHAPTER 5—A NIGHT WITH CHELSEA**

_Part 1: "Let her dance with me, just for the hell of it…"_

Jacob knew there were guys who had a hard time getting their girlfriends to watch sports with them, knew that there were girls who absolutely abhorred sports.

His girl sure as hell wasn't one of them, and it was sexy as fuck.

Right now, she was standing on the couch jumping up and down and screaming. He didn't even care about the team she was cheering for, or that they were actually beating his team. Her full breasts were dancing under the jersey that, on the back, bore the name of her "other boyfriend," a guy named Omar Vizquel, a guy who'd been around so long, he ought to be coaching in the MLB, not playing. Still, for a guy who'd debuted with the Mariners in the eighties, he was pretty good.

"God damn it!" Renesmee's enraged shriek broke through his thoughts, and he glanced up at her. She'd frozen, eyes wide, face incredulous. "Fucking throw the ball in the _strike zone_, please! You're gonna make us lose again!"

"I don't think he can hear you from here," Jacob said, grinning up at her.

Renesmee scowled down at him. "Whatever. Not everybody can rock the world like Buehrle and Paulie. But if he keeps this shit up, Ozzie needs to take his ass _out._" A crack emitted from the television, and she returned her attention to the screen. The jumping started again as she started screaming at Carlos to get under it, which he did, then threw it to first for another out, ending the inning, and the game.

"Yes!" she screamed. "Fucking love him!"

Hopping down, she started dancing around the living room, some odd looking sort of victory dance that she really seemed to be enjoying. He liked that it made her tits bounce more than ever.

Jacob picked up the remote and started sorting through channels. He couldn't believe his team had just lost a series to the White Sox, of all teams. Jacob didn't normally have much problem with how Edward and Bella had raised their daughter, but he really hated that Bella had allowed her husband to raise a Sox fan.

As Jacob saw another game on, he grinned. This team, he had no problem with. They had an amazing team, amazing goalie, and an amazing victory song.

Even though it was almost over, Jacob flipped to the Blackhawks game. Renesmee froze when she heard the sound of the puck hitting the sticks and ice, and players slamming each other against the glass.

"Hawks!" she screamed. "Yeah, baby!" She was in the kitchen and back before Jacob really registered it, beer in hand.

Jacob heard the front door open and close, and he glanced over his shoulder. Alma was standing, head cocked off to one side. "Why's she in such a good mood?" She grinned wickedly. "After all, there _was_ a Sox game on a few minutes ago."

"Fuck you, Astros, we won," Renesmee said, not looking around from her new game. "Now we're about to win again!"

"Ah, the only Chicago sports team really worth watching at the moment," Alma said, smiling as she glanced at the score. "Oh, yeah, baby, that's what rape looks like."

Renesmee did a fantastic evil laugh then, just as somebody scored a goal. She was back on the couch then, but this time, singing that song that they always sung, pumping her arms in the air.

Fifteen minutes later, another win secured, Renesmee had ordered a night out celebrating, and Jacob knew from the way they were already giggling that he would be driving the girls. As they headed upstairs to get ready, Jacob picked up his phone. He'd need reinforcements.

Seth assured him he'd be over shortly.

_Part 2: "You must be a girl with shoes like that…"_

At Renesmee's insistence, her Fratellis CD was in the car stereo, and the girls were in the backseat, all giggles. He knew from the smells that had wafted down from upstairs that both of them were stoned beyond reason, but he didn't mind. His wife was relaxed, her feet propped up on the center console.

He didn't have a foot fetish, but something about this particular pair of Manolos made him want to drill into her while she wore nothing but those shoes. He grinned, remembering how many times he's fucked her brains out in nothing but those shoes. He wanted it again, as they bounced to the rhythm of their owner's victory song.

She looked undeniably hot tonight. He loved going out with her, because she always wore something obscene, held her own at the bars, and clung to him like saran wrap. Tonight, with her golden sex shoes, she wore dark skinny jeans and a black shirt that laced up the side and cut down low, showing off her generous bosom, which he knew for a fact was encased in Victoria's Secret lace. She was probably wearing a thong, too. Gold bangles and earrings finished off her look.

His pants tightened when he looked in the rearview mirror to gaze at her for another moment.

She was smirking at him, the same smirk she'd gotten from her dad, the one he knew from overhearing had the same effect on Bella that it did on him. She had a finger twirled in a curl and she was pulling it down, her fingers curled around the edge of the neckline of her shirt. Her chocolate eyes smoldered at him, and she let her tongue dart out to moisten her top lip. When her fingers pulled back the hem of the shirt a little—Victoria's Secret, just as he'd suspected—his brain went from zero to sixty and he jerked the wheel of Renesmee's Jaguar, pulling quickly into a parking garage and zooming up to the top. When he stopped, he jerked his head at Seth, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah," Seth said, grinning as he reached in the back for his girlfriend. "Come on, baby, we know when we're not wanted."

The pair had barely shut the doors before Jacob was climbing in the back with Renesmee putting the seats forward. She moaned loudly when his hand found its way into her bra.

"Such a bad girl," he said softly in her ear, pulling on her nipples. "Don't you know it's mean to tease?"

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "I thought you liked to be teased."

He pulled the shirt over her head, briefly slid her shoes off to take off her jeans, before he put them back on. He'd been right—only a lacy black thong stood between him and her. Before giving her any more chance to react, he swung her legs up to rest her heels on his shoulders.

"You planned to tease me," he muttered, as he kissed his way up her leg. "You know how much I like to fuck you in these shoes." She whimpered a little when he nipped her ankle, and he grinned. "What's the matter baby?"

"You're teasing me," she moaned.

"Oh, honey, you're gonna get teased all night." He slapped her between the legs lightly, over the thong, and she cried out. A plan started formulating itself in his head, and while he knew he might have to pay for it later, he knew she'd like it. "You've been bad," he said, yanking the bra down so it hung around her waist. He tweaked her nipples again, harder this time, and she screamed. "Now you have to pay the price." He reached down, shoved aside the thong, and shoved himself into her. She screamed as he pounded her, stretching her legs so that she could hold on to her ankles. He worked her over in the backseat of her hundred thousand dollar car, and when he felt her getting close, he pounded into her one more time, releasing. He threw his head back, growling.

As he came down, he wasn't oblivious to the fact that she hadn't finished. He grinned down at her, and she was pouting a little bit. He leaned down to capture her earlobe between her ears before he whispered, "Bad girls don't get to come. Bad girls get teased."

Her eyes flashed, and he knew she'd caught on to his game. Now he'd find out if she was up to it.

She grinned wickedly. "I'll be a good girl if you let me come."

"You'll come when I say you can," he muttered against her neck, elated that she wanted to play a little. "And in the meantime, you have to make up for teasing me. Whenever I say, whatever I say, wherever I say." He could hear the Alpha tone creeping into his voice, and so could she. She nodded at him, biting a little on her bottom lip, and he tweaked her nipples one more time before pulling out of her. "Now get dressed. Our friends are waiting for us."

_Part 3: "I was good, she was hot…"_

The bar was moderately busy, fairly normal for a Thursday night. Jacob had steered his wife to a high top table while Seth and Alma had gone to the bar for drinks. Jacob sat next to his wife, one hand resting on her thigh. She shuddered a little as his fingers brushed her covered groin, blatantly drumming random patterns on her. He grinned. By the time he got her home, she'd be a mess.

Seth reappeared, putting a beer on the table in front of him. Alma placed a tequila sunrise in front of his wife, and she immediately took a big drink. Alma raised her eyebrows.

"Jesus, Jake, what'd you do to her?" she asked, watching as Renesmee downed the drink, orange juice running down her neck and between her breasts a little.

"Nothin'," he said, grinning.

Alma frowned, then comprehension crossed her face. "That's just mean."

Jacob shrugged, rubbing her a little more and feeling more heat emanate from her. "You guys up for some pool?"

The four of them made their way to the pool table, and he guided her with a hand on her lower back. He let his fingers slide just under the top of her jeans and rubbed at the curve of her butt a little while Seth and Alma walked ahead of them. Her eyelids fluttered a little bit, and he pulled his hand back, landing a little swat on her butt.

The game was interesting. Whenever Seth and Alma weren't looking, which was often, as when they weren't playing, she was straddling his lap, pressing kisses against his neck, Jacob would mess with her just a little bit. He'd grind his pelvis against her back, letting her feel him, slide his hands into her back pockets and squeeze, and even into her front pockets to rub against her a little more.

After half an hour of this, Alma announced that she wanted a cigarette and was going outside with Seth. The part of the bar they were in was fairly empty, the only people near them sitting facing in the opposite direction so they could see another ball game that was playing on a big screen. Jacob yanked his wife against him and pressed his lips against her ear.

"Ready to start makin' it up to me?" he growled, and she nodded, her head lolling against his shoulder. He turned her roughly in his arms so that she was facing him, and pushed her to her knees. She was effectively hidden under the end of the table now, and he reached down, unzipping his jeans and pulling himself out. He grinned down at her, and her eyes widened. "Get to work," he said, chuckling a little. "And be quick."

Her little mouth closed around him, hot and tight and wet, and he stifled a groan. While he pretended to watch the game, she sucked and slurped him as hard as she could, even sneaking her fingers into his boxers to play with the boys a little. When she ran her nail along his sensitive flesh, he shuddered and emptied himself into her mouth.

As she tidied him up, she glanced up at him, a small smile on her face. "Am I off the hook yet?"

"Hell no," Jacob said, laughing and pulling her to her feet for a kiss. "This is too much fun. Besides," he added, just loud enough for her to hear, "you didn't even ask for permission. You've got to ask for me to think about it."

She moaned a little as he turned them so they were leaning against the table again, this time, their backs to the rest of the bar. "Please," she whimpered as his hands slid into the front of her jeans, rubbing against her. "Please, may I come?"

"No." Jacob pulled his hands back out and winked at her. "You're too damn loud."

_Part 4: "I was bold, she was over the worst of it…"_

By an act of God, Jacob was able to convince Seth and Alma to take a cab home. He walked his wife out to the car, laughing when she stumbled a little.

"Don't ruin those shoes, baby," he warned. "I've got plans for those shoes tonight."

In the darkness of the car, he let his hands wander her body again, pulling and rubbing and teasing her, stopping when she was close to the edge, and moving his attentions elsewhere. She was bubbling up to a real explosion, he knew, but he wanted to get her home and into bed and into some strange position before that happened.

On the drive home, he unzipped himself again, and she slowly brought him to his release again. He buried his hands in her hair, glancing down from time to time. Her head bobbed up and down in his lap, clearly visible under the streetlights. When she'd finished, she sat up and put him back into his pants.

"Now, please?" she asked, pouting.

"Not yet."

He pulled into their driveway, and he could feel the tension between them. He unlocked the door and herded her inside. She waited for him just inside the door, and as soon as it was closed, he shoved her up against the wall. His lips found hers, and in a matter of seconds, she was topless. She moaned loudly, like he'd known she would, when he toyed with her breasts before pulling her jeans down, taking the thong with them.

"Leave the shoes on," he growled. She nodded and obediently slid her feet back in them. She moaned when he thrust his clothed body against her nude one. "Would you like to come?" he asked.

She nodded, whimpering.

"Be a good girl," he warned, "and do exactly as I say." When she nodded again, he gave her his first instruction. "Go sit on the stairs and get those legs spread for me. I wanna see everything."

With vampire speed, she was on the stairs, her legs spread wantonly for him. He made his way to stand in front of her. "I'm going to make you wait a little," he said, grinning. Slowly, he removed his shirt and folded it before resting it on the back of the couch. She was glaring at him, and he quirked an eyebrow. "You're going to give me attitude?"

Her face cleared and she shook her head. "I'm—"

"Shut up." He slid out of his shoes. "No more talking. No noise until I say. Understand?"

She smiled coyly and nodded, her eyes darkening further with lust. It didn't happen often, but there were times like this she loved being bossed around by him, and it turned him on.

"Good." He pulled his jeans off. "You know," he said conversationally, "we never got to do this before. Too many people around. Now," he pulled the boxers off and folded everything as he spoke, "I can fuck you how I want, when I want, when I want." He was naked now, and he made his way to where she waited patiently on the stairs. "Swing those legs up here, baby."

Once she was properly positioned, he slid slowly inside her. He heard a soft whine come from her throat, and he slapped her breasts lightly, stopping his movement. "I said no noise." The sound stopped, and he grinned. _So_ sexy. He slid his hands under her butt, pulling her up a little as he started to move. He groaned loudly. "So good, baby. Too bad you can't come yet."

She pouted, in lieu of speaking, and he grinned down at her as he started speeding up. "Not until I say," he said. He could feel the restraint she was exerting, could see it in the tension of her neck, how she was gripping his hair. He pressed his lips to hers, bending her leg back further and hitting her deeper. She was so close…

He yanked himself out of her. "Not yet," he said, studying her flushed body. "I want you to need to come so bad you hurt."

She swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before opening them. There was pleading there. "No," he said again. He swatted her butt before letting her legs down. "Upstairs. You have fifteen seconds to be in the middle of the bed on your hands and knees. If you do good, I _might_ let you come." He grinned.

Faster than his eyes could really register, she scrambled to her feet and darted upstairs. He took his time, gathering their clothes before making his way upstairs. He entered their bedroom to a glorious sight.

Renesmee was waiting for him, her hands and knees sinking slightly into the plush bed. Her knees were spread apart enough for him to have a fantastic view of her glistening body. He pretended not to notice, and made his way to the laundry hamper. He felt her eyes follow him.

"These need washed," he said, dangling the black thong from his finger. "I think you want to come—look what a mess you made of your panties?"

She didn't look at her underwear—she was staring at his erection.

He sighed theatrically as he held up her jeans. "You made a mess of your jeans, too. They're soaked clean through." He tossed them into the hamper with her thong. He studied her shirt, then said, "This can get hung up." When her eyes flashed, he grinned. "Later." He tossed his clothes and her shirt into a chair and climbed onto the bed behind her. He slapped her ass again. "Hold on to the headboard, baby," he ordered. "Brace yourself good, and make sure you hold on tight." He slid into her and leaned over her. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name," he whispered, and she shuddered. "Let me hear your sounds, baby," he said as he hiked her legs up so that they were wrapped around him in reverse, leaving her suspended between him and the headboard. "Come when I say to."

The scream that ripped from her throat sounded painful, but he knew she wouldn't register anything but pleasure now. He did just what he promised and fucked her as hard as he could. She moaned, growled, and hissed in pleasure.

"Would you like to come?" he growled.

"Yes!" She was screaming that a lot at the moment.

"Say please."

"Please, baby, please let me come!"

He slammed her again, but stopped this time. She moaned pleadingly. "Are you going to be a good girl? No more teasing when I can't fuck you?"

"Yes," she moaned. "I'll be a good girl, I swear."

He pretended to consider this, then wrapped an arm around her to support her as his other hand slid between her legs. Then, with no warning, he slammed her again. "Come," he growled. "Come hard."

She clenched around him almost painfully, and he was forced into the abyss after her. For several minutes, he laid on the bed, panting and gasping as she contracted around him, their arms no longer willing or able to support them anymore.

Then, to his surprise, she giggled.

He laughed along with her, flying high on pleasure, and they laughed until they drifted off to sleep.

_a/n Um… yeah. That was fun. And dirtier than anything I've done before, me thinks. My friend who gave me this position calls is "suspenders."_

_Review!_


	6. Reminder

_a/n In case you didn't notice, any time baseball is referenced in this story with Nessie cheering a pro team, it's gonna be the White Sox. For further references, see other story, title soon to change, "Meus Prosapia, Meus Vita." We may suck, but we suck with pride and Ozzie Guillen. And we beat the Cubs in the CTC._

_AND THE BLACKHAWKS WON THE STANLEY CUP! "CHELSEA DAGGER" 4-EVA! I think that last chapter was lucky…_

**CHAPTER 6—REMINDER **

In retrospect, she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. He had, after all, been raised around this, seen it done every day. Still, the idea of eating Seth's cooking had made Alma nervous, the way any first usually did.

But the homemade fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and green beans tasted amazing. Alma hadn't had fried chicken in years, but the taste of anything fried was enough to make her southern taste buds cheer up. The radio played softly in the background as they ate, and it was very comfortable.

Comfortable was not a word Alma was used to using to describe her life. Even with no longer drinking from humans, Alma had never been happier. She had a nice house where she lived with a wonderful man who loved her. He made her laugh, made her shake with anticipation, and, right now, made her wonderful dinner.

He'd taken her from half-breed junkie to real person.

She finished off her potatoes, smiling as Seth cleaned his plate for the third time. He glanced up, smiling. "You done?"

Alma nodded, and he cleared their plates off the table, rinsing them before putting them in the dishwasher. "What time are the guys coming over?"

"In an hour." Seth put soap in the dishwasher before he started it running. Hot damn, if she didn't have him trained. "What are you girls gonna do?"

Alma grinned. "We have unfinished rummy to attend to."

"So, rummy and rum in your drinks?"

"Those strawberries ain't in there just 'cause they're pretty." Alma wrapped her arms around Seth's waist. "They're gonna make some mean daiquiris."

Seth grinned. "Does that mean you're planning on coming to bed a little buzzed later?"

"Maybe." She swung her hips a little closer to his. "Maybe I'll be too tired."

A tug on her thighs had them wrapped around Seth's waist, and she felt the cool, hard surface of the counter under her as he slid her up. She kept her long legs wrapped around him as he kissed her. She felt his lips curl under hers and she smiled with him as he slid her out of her shirt.

"Maybe I ought to get what I want now, in case you're too tired later," he said, smirking at her as his hands slid up her sides.

When their clothes had been reduced, leaving Alma in nothing but a lacy black bra and Seth in a wife beater with his pants around his ankles, he gently pushed her back so that she was lying on the counter, her legs still around him. The counter was just the right height that he didn't have to strain as he slid into her. Her back arched when she felt him slowly connect with her.

This was more than comfortable. This was real, and it was amazing.

Nobody had ever cared about her like Seth, had ever taken the time to worship her body the way he did. Nobody had ever made her beg or moan or just _feel_ like he did. Sometimes, it was scary that anyone could love a stone cold bitch so much, but the fear always went away with the realization that the stone cold bitch had been left behind in the toxic ferocity of the south.

She wanted to make love to him there, on her beach behind her house. Maybe when the sun came up, and you could see it rising. It looked like it rose from the water.

Then, all thoughts of her past were gone and everything zeroed into her nerve endings. She moaned, long and loud, when his lips wrapped around her breast.

"God, you're so sexy," he muttered, his words muffled by her skin. "Wanna taste you all day."

She loved it when he talked. "Tell me, baby," she whispered, barely able to form words herself.

"I think about you when I'm at work," he said, his lips moving to her neck. "Think about how hot you look when you're all spread out for me like a fucking buffet. Like to imagine those long fucking legs on my bed, getting those ankles around your head. So fucking hot when you do that."

Faster than he could probably register, Alma unwrapped her legs and locked her ankles behind her own head. "Like this?" Seth froze, and she swore she felt him get harder, if it were possible. His eyes went blacker and glazed over a little. She grinned up at him and wiggled around a little bit. "You like this?" She flexed muscles she had only recently gained control of, thanks to Renesmee's gift of those fabulous little balls that she put up her pussy for several hours a day. A gift Seth didn't know about.

He groaned when she flexed, and she could see the muscles in his neck tighten. "Shit," he groaned. "Oh, God, baby, do that again."

She flexed again and wiggled her butt against his thighs. His hips swung forward, harder than before, she felt him hit her deeper than before. She cried out and submitted to him when he pushed her hands up over her head, pinning her arms by her wrists as he pounded harder into her.

"Almost there, baby," he grunted, sweating now with the effort. "Come on. Come for me." He leaned down again to whisper in his ear. "Come so I can come in you."

And just as he always did everything for her, she did for him the thing he most wanted at that moment.

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The guys from Seth and Jacob's garage were rowdy in the living room, watching some game and playing poker. The girls that they dated were in the middle of a roaring game of rummy, downing daiquiris and giggling hysterically.

A normal evening in the Clearwater-Thomas household.

Renesmee's eyes were focused on her cards, and Alma was sure she was trying to find some way to fuck her in the ass for picking up so many cards a moment ago. Renesmee had learned how to play cards from vampires who had spent a cumulative of years stuck inside houses together, and she was very good.

Like right now. She added two cards onto piles of Alma's before discarding her last card, sitting back with a smile and saying, "I'm out."

"Bitch."

"Hooker."

"I'll fight you with my thumb."

Renesmee smirked, and she looked remarkably like her father just then. "How many points did you lose?"

The other two girls giggled. Monica, a pretty Spanish girl with a nice tan and dark hair, sat on Renesmee's left. Veronica, blonde and petite and pale, was on her right. Both of them giggled as they sipped their daiquiris, and Alma sighed.

"You know, I can't kick your ass if you don't let me," Alma said, starting to add up totals. "Why don't you just bend over and take it?"

"Bending over and taking it in the _kitchen_," Renesmee said delicately, "is not my cup of tea so much as yours." She winked quickly at Alma, fast enough that the other two wouldn't notice.

"Excuse me?" Monica picked up her cards with a mockingly scandalized look on her face. "Does that mean that you have defiled the very countertop we're sitting at?"

"Twice this week, but I cleaned it before y'all came over." Alma smiled, flashing her ultra-white teeth.

"Ew!" Veronica squealed a little bit and made a show of being grossed out. Just as she was in the middle of faking vomiting, Seth came around the corner with an empty popcorn bowl.

"Um, yeah." He slowed slightly as he passed her, and she sat up, grinning. "You okay?"

"Fine." Veronica blushed a little. "Just… um… we were…"

"We were discussing the benefits of countertop sex," Monica said slyly as she started passing out cards. "What are your feelings on the issue?"

"I feel," Seth said, dumping more popcorn from a bag into the bowl, "that countertop sex is seriously underrated."

"Me, too," said Monica, nodding gravely. "I feel it's so frequently overlooked in view of the much more convenient kitchen floor."

"Convenient, yes," Seth added, "but sanitary, not so much."

Renesmee snorted, clearly finding the idea of a shape-shifting man who spent time running around the woods half naked worrying about sanitation funny. Alma certainly did. Especially since they'd fucked completely naked in the woods several times.

Veronica shifted a bit in her seat and Seth nudged his girlfriend from behind. "Be nice," he said, but his eyes were dancing. "Not everybody's as vulgar as you."

"No, I'm fine." Veronica stood up quickly and made her way over to the counter for another daiquiri. "Please, continue your conversexation." She laughed.

She was chopping up strawberries when it happened.

In any other house, it wouldn't have been a big deal. A band-aid and everything would have been fine. It mightn't even need stitches.

Alma's ears caught the gentle tearing of flesh when the knife nicked the edge of Veronica's finger, heard the sharp inhale as the pain registered.

She steeled her mind, tried to hold her breath.

She registered the commotion that ensued. Veronica's hiss of pain, a curse when she explained to Monica what had happened. Renesmee running the sink.

In the mind's eye of the killer, it was so easy to see all that lovely blood going down the drain, going to waste, and so hard to resist…

She hadn't realized that she'd curled her fingers into claws until she felt strong hands prying them free.

"Come on, honey." Seth's voice was low. "I need you to help me find band-aids."

Veronica was still bleeding, her back facing Alma. Renesmee glanced back and her eyes bored into Seth's. She jerked her head, and he nodded, hoisting Alma out of the chair and dragging her from the room. There was a mirror in the hall, and she caught a glimpse of herself, of her eyes.

They were violet again, all traces of blue gone. The violet reminded her what she was, and she felt a growl in her throat. Seth gripped her arms tighter, clapped a hand over her face. She struggled for a moment until the scent of his skin overpowered that _other_ scent…

She submitted to the new scent, the scent of her lover's skin. She felt his hand shaking…

Somehow, she was on the bed. Had it been twenty seconds? Or a minute? Maybe an hour…

A warm hand cupped the back of her head. She knew he was looking at her, but she was too afraid to look back, afraid of the possibility that he may be looking at her with disgust.

Would he realize she was someone he should kill?

She faded.

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Alma and Seth's house was quiet. After Alma had started "feeling ill," the night had sort of sobered up. On closer inspection, the cut Veronica had made was a little deeper than she'd realized, and her boyfriend had decided he wanted to take her to the ER. She'd rolled her eyes, asked to tell Alma that she hoped she felt better soon, and departed. Monica and Jeff had left soon after.

As soon as they were out the door, Renesmee had kicked the boys out, sending them next door, and bolted upstairs as soon as they were over the threshold.

She'd found Alma in a disturbing state. She was curled in a tight ball, lying on her side and facing the mirrored closet doors. Her eyes were staring at her reflection, flecks of the violet that had been so prominent before just evident in the blue. Around the blue was the red of bloodshot eyes.

It had been a little startling to see her friend cry. Alma seldom cried, and never around anyone she didn't trust and know well.

There was enough room on the edge of the bed for Renesmee to slide on and curl up next to her friend. Alma actually shifted, allowing Renesmee more room, and Nessie mirrored Alma's posture. Their foreheads touched, just slightly, and Nessie let her thoughts flow.

She could have shown her pictures of Seth's face, tortured as he'd been forced to leave his imprint, who was clearly in a great deal of emotional pain. She could have shown his shame at his impulse to phase while he'd held her in his arms. He wasn't sure if she would have survived that.

Instead, she showed her memories.

_It was another one of Rosalie and Emmett's extravagant weddings. I think I was two years old, physically around six. Daddy had his feet propped up on a chair, and I was curled up like a cat on his chest. There was dancing, and on the other side of the dance floor, Jasper was whispering in Alice's ear, and she was giggling. They were holding hands while they danced…_

_I got really mad at my mom when I was starting my teenage years. She was never fair, and she never let me do everything I wanted to do. She made me so mad one day I ran away from home. Daddy let Uncle Jasper come after me, and he sat with me while I cried and yelled and kicked and screamed. I asked if I had to forgive my mom, and he said, "Forgiveness is divine…"_

_When I was three, Uncle Jasper and Uncle Emmett thought it would be funny to booby trap Jacob's house. They put all kinds of gross stuff in there that was supposed to fall on him and everything. Daddy decided to be mean and he took everything back inside the house and put it in places it would fall when they weren't paying attention. Like the couch in the living room, and the top corner in the shower. Grandma was so mad when maple syrup and feathers got all over her new sofa. Uncle Jasper thought it was the funniest shit he'd ever seen…_

The tight ball loosened. Alma's eyes did not move.

_I thought it would be fun to sneak out one night when mom and dad were gone. Jake and I went out in his car and parked off some back road so we could make out. I thought I was going to have a heart attack when Uncle Jasper knocked on my window. Jake's hand was up my shirt and his was long gone by then. My parents were going to come home early, and Alice sent Uncle Jasper to get me. I'll never know how, but we got home before my parents, and my dad never found out…_

_Mommy and Daddy were on a second honeymoon. Very young, just a baby still. Don't remember so well, just Uncle Jasper's hair smelt good. Uncle Jasper made me sleepy, no bad dreams…_

Soft lavender lids had closed over blue irises, and Renesmee crept down from the bed, trying to be stealthy. She was paying little attention as she exited, and nearly died of surprise when she turned around.

"Oh, my God!" Renesmee put a hand over her heart as she flattened herself against the wall. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry." She felt herself calming down. "Alice just said things didn't look quite right, so I came to check."

Renesmee sighed. "Jesus, Jasper, you could have called."

Jasper's hands were stuck down in his pockets. "Yeah. Didn't really think about that." He sighed, removing one hand to run it over his face. "So what happened?"

Renesmee took the loose hand in hers and quickly filled him in on the evening's earlier events, leaving out the later parts. She let go and glanced behind her.

"She's really upset," Renesmee whispered. "I think she's sleeping."

Jasper's gold eyes shot to Alma's prone form before they landed back on his niece. "You go home," he said softly. "I'll be over in a while."

Renesmee nodded and stepped aside to let Jasper into the room.

She knew he would hear her in the hallway as she slipped out, but she couldn't help it. She listened as the bed shifted slightly, heard Alma's breathing pick up a bit. Maybe she wasn't asleep.

"Hey, honey." Jasper's voice was gentle. "I know you're not asleep."

Then the sound of a soft sniffle met Renesmee's ears, and Alma's voice, softer and younger than she'd ever heard it, say softly, "Hi, Dad."

Renesmee smiled as she snuck back down the hall. She'd never heard Alma call him that before…

_a/n Yeah, decided things were going too nicely. Bwahahahahaha!_

_Don't worry, nothing bad's going to happen. This is Fluffland, where everything is cotton candy fluff!_

_I wake up at the ass crack of dawn to make sure I have time to write. As I write this, it is 8:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning (okay, maybe the dog had something to do with waking me up at 6:45). Still. Coffee wakes me up. Reviews make me warm and fuzzy._


	7. Southern Comfort

_a/n I hate it when technology decides to show you who's the boss. It sucks._

_Attempt 2—total redo. Maybe that was a sign. Enjoy! The "You're a hooker" line is a salute to a dear friend of mine, who will never read this story, because he hates _Twilight_. Sad, I know. Ah, well. We trek on, and still, he's my friend._

_You don't know how much I want to leave a chapter with its starting title, which is always "Untitled… For Now."_

**CHAPTER 7—SOUTHERN COMFORT**

Alma slept all night, which was a little alarming. Jasper knew from back home that she slept about four or five hours each night, and when her sleep rolled into the next day, he called Carlisle.

Normal, Carlisle said. Sleeping was a coping mechanism for humans, so it made sense that she'd want to sleep when she was so upset.

So he let her sleep.

Seth had stayed the night across the street, sleeping in Jake and Nessie's spare room, before coming home early the next morning for his work clothes. It was strange to see Seth, a normally happy person, so upset.

He'd crept into the room around seven, still wearing the clothes he'd had on the night before. He made his way to the bed and sat down on Alma's other side, rubbing her back softly, and glanced over at Jasper.

_Is she okay?_ he mouthed, not wanting to wake her.

Jasper just shrugged, and Seth sighed softly before placing a tender kiss on Alma's temple. "Love you," he whispered.

He left then, and Jasper went back to trying to keep his daughter's nightmares at bay.

Noon came, and still, she slept on.

Renesmee poked her head in around three, frowning deeply when she found her friend still sleeping. Jasper sighed heavily and moved to get up, letting his concentration down just a little in the process.

Her reaction was as fast as it was startling. Her hand snapped onto his wrist and refused to let go. She thrashed a little, moaning, curling into a ball around Jasper's hand. His eyes widened, and he clutched his hand a little tighter, forcing calm onto her.

She needed it, he realized, when she let him. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating.

"So weird," Renesmee muttered, and Jasper opened his eyes. She was staring at their joined hands.

The soft gold glow that appeared any time they used each other's power was prominent in the darkened room. She was pulling from him, and she didn't even know it. The result was a feeling of utmost calm, and he brushed her curls back from her face.

"I don't understand why she's _this_ upset," Renesmee said quietly, sitting down next to Jasper. "She didn't even do anything."

"She's afraid Seth will want to leave her now that he's reminded what she's capable of," Jasper said quietly. "It took me a while to get it out of her."

"Seth would never leave her," Renesmee said, her voice even softer than before. "He can't."

"I know that, and so do you, but she's gotten used to having a companion. Being alone again scares her to death."

"I love how you guys think I can't hear you," Alma muttered, and Jasper burst out laughing.

"So you heard the part where Seth isn't going anywhere?" Renesmee asked.

"Don't mean he ain't mad at me," she mumbled, snuggling closer to Jasper's chest.

"Oh, my God," Renesmee said, flopping onto her back. "This is like the real life high school drama I never got to experience." She sighed dramatically, and put on a Valley girl voice. "So, like, he's all, 'Oh, my _gawd!_ She's totally mad at me, 'cause she hasn't, like, called or texted, and it's just, like, so sucky!'" She shot her voice up anther octave at the end, and Alma winced.

"Why you wakin' me up so early?" she moaned, stretching. "You know I don't like to get up before two."

"It's past two."

"Oh."

"In the _afternoon._" Renesmee crossed the room and threw open the curtains. "See?"

"No sunlight," Alma muttered, hiding her face, and Jasper chuckled. Then she paused. "Seriously? How long did I sleep."

"About fourteen hours," Jasper said, rubbing her back as she stretched. "I was starting to get worried."

"Sorry." She sighed and rubbed her eyes adorably. "I didn't mean to make you worried."

"It's not like you did it on purpose," Jasper said. Then he smiled. "So you know you're better controlled than me, right?"

"Just because I didn't actually kill somebody?" she asked, and her voice took on a bitter tone. "I would have, if there'd been nobody there to stop me. Woulda had a hell of a time, too, 'cause I woulda killed the witnesses, too."

"That's the nice thing about having friends," Renesmee said, smiling as she sat back up. "We're not afraid to pin your hands behind your back and punch you in the face."

Finally, Alma's eyes opened.

They were a little darker from sleep, and a tiny bit puffy, but there was more light in them than there had been the night before. She managed a little smile for her father and hugged him tightly before sitting up.

"Ugh," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I feel like a sack of rat shit."

Renesmee giggled, and Jasper hoisted Alma over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and carried her wiggling, protesting form down the stairs. He plopped her at a stool in the kitchen, then put his hands on his hips.

"I can't cook," he said seriously. "So I'm not sure what to do here."

"Oh!" Renesmee cried, and she shot her hand into the air and hopped up and down. "Pick me, pick me! I can cook, pick me!"

Alma smiled. "Whatever's fine, darlin.'"

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The rest of the day involved a still-sleepy Alma, but she was more or less back to normal after Renesmee's adventure at the blood bank, and after Seth came home and proceeded to pick her up, carry her to the couch, and sit with her in his lap for several hours.

Feeling an urge to give her friends some privacy, Renesmee offered to drive her uncle to the airport so that he could head back to New Hampshire. It gave her the opportunity to catch up with him, on things that were going on at home. It didn't sound like much had changed, other than the fact that her mother was a little mopey with her baby out of the house.

It had been good to see her uncle, but she probably should have kept him longer. She found herself alone at her piano at seven, because Jacob was getting paid a ridiculous bonus for working late to get some CEO's car fixed for tomorrow morning.

Bottle of wine and wine glass at her side, Renesmee's fingers danced lightly across the keys as she played in a stream of consciousness that spewed a great deal of different genres, periods, and styles. She played Mozart, which cheered her up a little, before she switched to Debussy, and that made her homesick. She tried Bach, who she and her father both hated, before quickly changing over to Beethoven, who made her feel a little depressed. She played Schoenberg and started to wonder a little why on earth she'd settled in the land where there was no tune to follow, before settling into Rachmaninoff and what she could play of his second piano concerto.

That last one was the one that started the whole mess.

The first pop song she'd learned to play was one she only ever played when she was all by herself. That was the whole point of playing this particular song.

She was having so much fun, she didn't hear the door open, and was in the middle of blaring out the chorus of "All By Myself" by Eric Carmen when she heard a throat clear behind her.

Startled, Renesmee let out a shriek and shot off the bench. In a split second, she was on top of the piano in a defensive crouch, ready to destroy her intruder.

Her "intruder" was laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach with one hand and using the other to lean against the back of the couch for support.

"Very funny," Renesmee said, scowling at her husband. "I could have killed you, you know."

Jacob's laughs doubled and he was rolling on the floor in no time. Renesmee situated herself cross-legged on the top of her piano, still frowning, arms folded over her chest. "Not funny," she said, still scowling.

"Oh, baby, come on." Jacob was still laughing. "You should have seen your face! You looked ready to shit your pants!"

_Not funny_, she shot back, too annoyed with him to just speak.

That just made him laugh harder.

Unexpected tears pricked at her eyes. Her singing wasn't really _that_ bad, was it?

She didn't realize her mind was still open until Jacob's laughs stopped abruptly. He rolled up on his knees and crawled up to her, reaching up for her hands.

"No, baby, that's not what was funny at all," he said, and his voice was sincere. "You just looked really funny when you jumped up there. I wasn't laughing at your singing, baby, I promise. I'm so sorry, baby, I—"

Renesmee put a hand gently over his lips, cutting him off. "Stop," she said softly. "It's okay." She placed a little kiss on his forehead and smiled down at him. "You don't have to beat yourself up every time I get mad at you, Jake. I'm not always rational. It comes with having a vagina." She saw the corners of his mouth twitch a little, and she grinned. "You can laugh, it's okay."

He was rolling on the floor again before she knew it.

Later, after Jacob had calmed down a little, they reclined on the couch while she recalled her day with Alma.

"Seth was a wreck all day today," Jacob said, letting his thumb rub the back of her hand. "I sent him home early. He almost rewired an electrical system wrong and fried the whole thing. He couldn't even think straight. Guy's crazy in love her."

"Can you blame him?" Renesmee asked, smiling. "He can't help himself. Kind of like you."

"I can't be controlled," Jacob said, grinning. "Couldn't stop loving you if I tried."

"Interesting, considering you were once dead set on killing me."

"Never would have happened," he said staunchly. "Love you too much."

"You're cute." Renesmee reached up and ruffled his hair. "But let's be honest. If you'd ever tried to kill me, I would have kicked your ass."

Jacob scoffed. "Yeah, right."

Renesmee raised an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"

"Yep."

Before he had a chance to think or say anything else, Renesmee yanked his wrists and flipped him to the floor, using her full strength on him. "Still wanna bet?"

Jacob's dark eyes twinkled. "Try me."

"Try to move."

When he started to strain against her, she focused harder on keeping him pinned. When he tried to use his legs to free himself, she pinned those down, too. He scowled up at her, displeased with his disadvantage. She laughed. "What's wrong, baby? Can't stop me unless you're phased?"

"You're a hooker." He strained a bit, but really couldn't take her in his human form.

"Don't phase," she warned. "I don't know if the rug could take it."

"So what's your plan?" He flashed her what he called the "panty-dropper smile." "You gonna take advantage of me?"

"I'm thinking about it." Renesmee smirked down at him. "Wanna see?"

It was effortless to show him _exactly_ what she was planning to do with him. She had several ideas, most involving her one top.

He seemed to like that. Dark eyes rolled back into his head and he groaned. "Jesus, baby, you're killing me!"

"Sorry, darling," she said, her laughter tinkling around them. "You carry me upstairs, and I'll take care of everything else."

_a/n Reviews moisten my panties. There, I said it. Leave 'em. I like it. A little to the left…_

_There will be more soon. You should know that I'm a "write by the seat of my pants" girl, because every time I plan for exactly how I want something to go, I change it fifty times. It starts and ends where I want, but the middle takes on a mind of itself._

_I feel like I'm cycling out on this one a little bit, and I have some other stuff I want to get started on, but not before I finish here. The drama has passed, and I think it's settling. We'll see._

_About the southernisms: Some are googled, some are ones I've heard, and some are dropped by yours truly. I'm from Illinois, but it's redneck Illinois. Last night at work, I felt like shit, and told one of the girls, "I doubt those guys'd hit on me. I look like a rat's ass after a shit." She'd never heard anything so funny in her life. Seriously. Laughed her little butt off._

_Off to start my next project, currently untitled, canon, involving Mike, Tanya, and a little bit of mayhem._


	8. In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

_a/n Do you like sex? Twilight characters getting' it on? Go to my profile and read "Life and Death with the Original Succubus." I need an audience for some upcoming boom boom, and I guarantee it's not like anything you've ever read before, because I can't find anything like it. Seriously. I've looked._

_Hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm a little sentimental today, not sure why, but here you go. Probably not a lot more to go. The drama has passed._

_Don't get used to 2 chapters in one day, thought. I had a dumbfuck moment and forgot to post chapter 7. I was all, "Hey, where'd chapter 7 go? What the fuck? Did I write chapter seven?" It got as far as the doc manager then I spaced. Dumbfuck. Seriously. You should see me at work._

_As usual, don't read if you don't like sex, emotional women, or the idea of Renesmee getting stoned. They're in Colorado. It's less frowned upon there._

**CHAPTER 8—IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING**

Spring literally melted into summer. One day there was snow on the ground, and three days later it was melting in sixty degree sunshine.

Tonight, the windows were open and a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains. The only sounds other than the soft material brushing against the walls were soft gasps, quiet moans, little whispers, and the shifting of sheets as Jacob slowly made love to his wife.

The past few months had been interesting. Alma had gone through a bit of a funk after her almost slip up, and Seth had actually taken a week off from work to stay home and keep her company. Unbeknownst to her, Seth was already saving up for an engagement ring, and was planning to propose at Christmas, when they went back to New Hampshire for a visit, and possibly to stay.

Everything was so blissfully normal that it was easy, sometimes, to forget his in-laws were vampires.

Like right now. _This_ was normal. Nice house, beautiful couple. Good friends across the street. Making love to his wife, with no hypersensitive family downstairs. Losing count of how many times she had come.

Jacob was propped up on his elbows as he slid slowly in and out of her, and Renesmee's legs were wrapped around his waist as he moved. He cradled her head gently as he kissed her, his tongue mirroring his movements in and out, round and round.

She took a shuddering breath, and he felt her go over the edge again. She whimpered softly in his arms and he held her a little closer, moaning as the scent of her reached his nostrils. Clinging to his shoulders, her hips rolled under him. His lips pulled away from hers, and she pouted.

"Come here," he said, and rolled so she was on top. She planted her hands firmly on his chest as she rocked back and forth, dancing on top of him to music only she could hear. The rhythm changed frequently, and it wasn't long before she was shaking again. Her head fell back and she leaned, back arched and breasts jutted out, to put her hands on his thighs for support. He could feel her shaking, and knew she was about to collapse, so he moved her again, managing not to slip out of her. When she was spooned against him, he started thrusting into her again. He didn't stop until she came and took him with her. He groaned into the back of her neck, burying his face in the sweet scent of her hair.

"God, I love you," he moaned, kissing her again.

She didn't respond. He chuckled when he realized she'd fallen instantly asleep. Poor thing. Literally screwed senseless.

He fell asleep, still smiling, a few minutes later, still inside her.

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He woke up at three in the morning when she did. She was moving, and he was still inside her. A moan escaped his lips, and she giggled.

They both came fast, and he passed out again right away.

She picked up her cell phone, smiling, and texted Alma. "Just woke up Jake and Little Jake and now he's passed out again. Wonder if he'll think it was a dream."

As carefully and quietly as possible, she moved away and rolled out of bed. Jacob humphed a little in his sleep and rolled onto her side of the bed, shoving his face in her pillow. He was mostly exposed, and she stood admiring the perfect specimen that was her husband. It still took her breath away that this amazing, sexy, beautiful man belonged to her. Now, while he slept, his face was relaxed and she was left wondering, not for the first time, what he'd been like before he erupted into a giant wolf.

Her phone lit up and she glanced down. It was Alma.

"Done that before. Seth woke up and told me about this awesome dream he had and I said Baby, that's no dream. I really fucked you last night. He was shocked."

Renesmee pulled on one of Jake's big shirts and a pair of boy shorts to go underneath and made her way downstairs. Opening the blinds of the kitchen, she could see Alma sitting and waiting on the back deck.

Alma was looking a little thinner these days, a bit worse for the wear. The fear of losing Seth was not one that had gone away overnight, and on many days when Seth was working, she'd find Alma sitting curled up in Seth's chair, biting her nails and staring at the TV, fretting about whether or not tonight would be the night he decided not to come home. She'd stopped eating and hunting, and now only went with Renesmee. Her sleep patterns had returned to normal, and when people were around, she put on a brave face, but in the early morning, she was at her worst and the only person who saw was her best friend.

Nessie felt honored that Alma wasn't afraid to fall to pieces in front of her anymore. She usually did it early, before Seth got up. Renesmee always helped her put those pieces back together and put on a brave face. She was also the person who forced her to keep herself healthy, the person who reminded Alma that Seth loved her more than anything else, and the person who would sometimes carry her to bed and tuck her in when she needed an afternoon nap, something she'd never required before.

This morning, Alma was curled in a lawn chair, twirling the tail of her French braid between her fingers. She was gazing out at the yard, and there were a joint and a cigarette in the ashtray next to her. Renesmee took a hit from the joint before setting it back down. Alma didn't make any movement or show signs of knowing she was there while Renesmee moved another chair so she could sit at her friend's side.

"You okay?" Renesmee peered at Alma's face. Her eyes were a little darker, from weed and lack of sleep.

Alma shrugged and picked up her cigarette. "I guess." She took a deep, long drag before exhaling. The woman knew how to sigh with a cigarette. "Couldn't sleep again."

"He's not going to be gone when you wake up," Renesmee said softly. "And if he is, he's at work or downstairs. But you're always up first."

"I know." Alma curled up a little tighter. "I keep having nightmares."

It was quiet for a few minutes, Renesmee pretty much taking control of the joint Alma seemed to be ignoring. Finally, she held her hand out for it and Renesmee gave it over.

Feeling stoned and sentimental, Renesmee smiled over at her friend. "So you know my dad's obsessed with music that came out in the fifties." Alma nodded. "He loves Julie London. She sang this Sinatra song that he loved, and he liked it better than Sinatra."

Alma hummed, a small smile gracing her lovely features. "I remember."

Renesmee grinned. "I just thought of that song, 'cause it's the 'wee small hours of the morning,' and everything, and you really can't stop thinking long enough to sleep."

"True." Alma looked a little thoughtful. "I loved that song," she said. "I used to imagine finding a guy I couldn't stop thinking about." She grimaced a little.

"Seth adores you," Renesmee said softly. "You have to stop beating the shit out of yourself, just because you couldn't help what you are for two seconds. Nothing happened, nobody noticed anything, and Seth really couldn't care less." She thought for a moment. "He's been friends with my dad since before I was born," she added.

Alma's eyebrows shot up a little at this. "Really?"

"Yeah." Renesmee grinned. "It used to really confuse my mom, and piss Jake off, that they got along so well. Seth's just a cool guy, and he really doesn't give a rat's ass what anybody is. I mean, my dad's a _vampire_ and Seth is supposed to kill vampires. But he recognized that my dad has the ability to be a cool guy. I think he can be a real tool, but Seth's got the ability to find good in anyone, as long as there's enough of it." She watched as Alma's face hardened. It was the face she wore when she was trying not to fall apart. "You're good, too, Alma," she said quietly, and reached over to gently rub her friend's back. "He knows that. He loves you. He would love you even if you'd killed Veronica."

Alma blinked rapidly, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. She uncurled and hid her face in her hands. "Jesus Christ," she muttered. "I gotta get over this. I don't cry."

"Yes, you do," Renesmee said, quiet force in her voice. "You cry and laugh and sleep and breathe and fuck up, just like everybody else."

"I just don't know what he sees in me," she muttered around her hands, dragging them off her face. "I'm such a psycho wreck. I always have been."

"It's not just what he sees in you," Renesmee said quietly. "It where he sees himself filling in the gaps. You've got a lot of gaps to fill—you're had a rough life." When Alma didn't respond, just stared blankly ahead again, she kept going. "He sees the same things the rest of us see, and it's all the things you don't see. He sees that you're funny as shit, and not afraid to break the rules to have a little fun. He sees that you've got this wonderful façade up that makes you seem tough, but he also knows that if he can slide under it, you can be a big softie. He sees a beautiful, confident, independent woman who shares her independence with him. You've never needed a man before, and he knows that. He knows you're fierce and protective, and that you'd rather wear shorts than jeans, how much you hate running shoes and cold weather, that you like peanut butter and Nutella on your waffles, and that you take a little orange juice with your tequila." Alma finally cracked a little smile. "He knows all that, and he loves every bit of it."

Alma took in a deep, slightly shaky breath. "I know."

"Do you, though?" Renesmee picked up the waning joint. At this point, she was floating and feeling like Dr. Phil. Fucking bad ass. "I don't think you realize that he would literally _die_ for you if he had to. If somebody hurt you, he'd kill that person. When you hurt, he hurts. When you're happy, he's happy."

Alma sighed heavily. "Yeah."

Suddenly, there were the sounds of hurried footsteps in the front yard. Both women turned and looked in the direction of where the footsteps were coming closer.

"Oh, God, it's Seth," Alma whispered, putting a hand over her heart. "Jesus. Scared the ever-lovin' daylights out of me."

Sure enough, Seth came around the corner of the house, looking panicked. As soon as his eyes found Alma, he shot to her side, lifted her up, and sat back down with her in his lap. He proceeded to pepper her face and neck with kisses. She actually giggled a little, and the sound made Renesmee feel a little better about her friend's wellbeing.

"I woke up and couldn't find you," he muttered, still pressing kisses behind her ears, the nape of her neck, anywhere he could find. "You scared me, baby."

"Sorry, darlin,'" she said, her Texas twang heavy. "I left a post-it on the alarm."

"Didn't check there," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I freaked out a little bit." He smiled sheepishly when she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "Okay, maybe I panicked. Sorry, baby."

She stared for a minute, then her face softened. "You know you're a real silly man, right?" she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through his black hair.

He grinned goofily up at her. "Yep. You love it."

She laughed, the first _real_ laugh Renesmee had heard from her in a while. "Yes, I do," she said, and she nuzzled her face close to his. His arms wrapped around her waist a little tighter as she turned to sit sideways in his lap.

"I'll go put on some coffee," Renesmee said softly.

They ignored her. Alma's hands cupped his face and she leaned her forehead against his. "Love you," she whispered, and there was just a little of that insecurity that had blanketed her for the past few weeks still left in her voice.

As she shut the door behind her, she heard Seth voice, soft in the evening and barely audible over the little breeze. "I love you so much, baby. Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"I promise."

Back in the kitchen, Renesmee turned on her iHome and put on the song that was now stuck in her head. The soft strains of Julie London filled the kitchen, and Renesmee danced a little while she made herself coffee.

When she glanced out the back window, what she saw made her smile.

Seth had pulled Alma to her feet, and they were dancing slowly while the music flowed out the window she'd forgotten was open. His lips were moving at her ear, and she couldn't hear the words he said, but whatever it was, Alma looked very content in his strong arms. He whispered something then, and she looked up at him.

Her face glowed, her eyes lighter and more electric looking than they had been. She laced her fingers behind Seth's head and pulled him down, going up on her bare tip-toes to kiss him. They slowly spun, lips still pressed together, until Seth picked her up and danced with her while her feet dangled. She giggled, the sound so unusual coming from her, and he freed one hand to cup the back of her head in his hand and kiss her again. She sighed softly, seeming to press harder against him.

"You don't think they're gonna have sex back there, do you?" Jacob's voice, although a nearly silent whisper, scared the shit out of her, and she jumped a solid foot into the air. He caught her easily, grinning. "Hey, baby."

"Shh!" She was trying not to giggle. "They're having a moment."

"I'm not the one who can't stop laughing."

A snort escaped, and before she really understood how, she realized that somehow, she'd would up on the floor, laughing hysterically.

"Mood killer," Jacob said, shaking his head. "I was coming down here for an early morning seduction." When she kept laughing, he shook his head. "You okay?"

"I'm… so… high!" she weezed around her laughter, and from outside, she heard Alma burst out laughing.

Jacob shook his head. "Well, I think you killed my mood and theirs, so is anyone up for an early breakfast?"

"Me!" Seth called from outside. "Give me ten minutes."

"Ten?" Jacob asked. "Don't you mean two?"

"Oh, it burns!" Renesmee's laughter doubled when she heard Seth hopping around outside and Alma's musical laughter.

So while Seth and Alma bolted next door for a quickie and Jake cooked a three thirty breakfast, Renesmee continued to laugh, completely unable and unwilling to hold back the delight she felt.

_a/n Seriously. Visit my profile. dazzelglo did and does not regret it! Do it! I dare you! If you don't, I'll be sad. Really sad. I have a master plan, and I want YOU to witness it! I'd do my best Uncle Sam on those old war posters impression, but you can't see me, and I look odd doing it alone. To a computer. The sentiment is there. Review this, then go pay me a visit elsewhere!_


	9. Stages

_a/n I give you… fluff! And not much plot! Fluffy fluffy fluff! Cotton candy, slightly sweetened lemonade, fluff! White, puffy, cumulus fluff! I need a fluff transition to the finale. Yes, dear friends, that time is drawing close. Bye bye time…_

**CHAPTER 9—STAGES **

_Stage 5—Acceptance _

"Okay," Alma said, tossing her long, curly ponytail over her shoulder. "This is how it's done, boys."

Renesmee laughed, the sound bubbly and carefree. "And to think, this is how I first met her."

"Sounds about right," Emma said, smiling from under her sunglasses and stretching her bikini-clad body a little bit on her chair. "Same for me, but without the golf club."

"Right, just curled up on the sand tweakin' out." Alma grinned.

Seth cracked open a beer before handing a fresh one to Jake, laughing as his girlfriend wiggled her butt a little bit before focusing on the golf ball, perched carefully on a sand-wedged Shiner bottle.

It had turned out that Emma was actually a friend of Jasper and Alice's. A rebel newborn from Oklahoma, Maria had been unable to contain her, and she'd found her own way home to Oklahoma, away from Maria's newborn armies, in 1939, just after the early onset of World War II. She was easygoing, living life as she pleased, while still playing by the vampire rules, and was ferociously loyal to her friends. Just before they were disbanded, Emma threatened a Volturi guard that had approached her with permanent disembowelment, declaring her refusal to aid the Volturi against her friends, and he'd backed off immediately. It had been happening with decreasing frequency, ending completely after their fall from grace. Now, vampires still lived quietly, but out of respect, a lifestyle the southern beauty greatly appreciated.

The girl had legs that went on forever, and dark hair that came down almost to her waist. She was pretty, Seth admitted, but there was no real attraction—she had nothing on Alma. Nahuel, on the other hand, was absolutely burning for her. Upon the invitation that he get out of his little rented flat in Buenos Ares, he'd jumped when Alma had mentioned Emma. He'd turned on every charm when he'd seen Emma, and she'd cocked an eyebrow, certainly interested, but seeing through his lures. That left him with trying to impress her, which he had certainly done once he'd enticed her into the warm gulf waters, then proceeded to act like a carefree little boy by dunking her. She'd laughed, delighted, and stuck to his side like glue ever since.

The loud smack that went with Alma's driver hitting another golf ball brought back his attention. She was watching as the golf ball flew into the purple dark in front of her. "Ha!" she yelled, turning and waving the driver over her head like a victorious warrior with her spear. "Beat that, miss!"

Emma rose from her lawn chair in a single fluid movement, batting away Nahuel's hands when he swatted her butt as she rose. She giggled her way to her friend and took the driver. She paused, leaning against the club while Alma took a long swig of beer. The radio in her hand gave a little burst of static before Jasper's voice came on.

"Five thousand, three hundred and eighty-six feet," he said, sounding impressed. "Pretty good."

"Nice job finding it," Alma said, laughing into the radio. "It's gettin' dark out here."

"Yeah, little white ball's pretty easy to follow, though," he said, laughing.

"Alright, alright," Emma said, placing a new ball on the mouth of the bottle. "Enough chit chat. Tell him to get up top quick, 'cause I'm gonna unload this thing right here."

"I'm gittin, I'm gittin," Jasper said, laughing on the other end. "Right. Get to it."

Emma stared hard at the ball for a few seconds before bringing the driver back and bringing it forward with a great deal of force. There was a long pause as all of them watched it disappear.

"It looks really close," Renesmee said, sitting down next to Jacob and leaning against his side when he pulled her closer to him by her waist.

"Didn't make it," Alma muttered. She looked at the silent radio. "Come on, now," she muttered, "this is the money shot."

"He's bein' an asshole," Emma said, rolling her eyes. She took the radio from Alma and barked, "Jazz, quit bein' an asshole, dammit, I wanna know who won!"

There was a pause, then, "Five thousand, three hundred and twelve feet."

"Seventy four feet short!" Alma screamed, whooping and jumping up and down. "That's how we do it in Texas!"

Seth laughed until a sly Jacob added, "Hey, Seth, weren't you three hundred feet short of Alma?"

Emma burst into another fit of giggles, which increased in volume when Nahuel grabbed her around the middle, hoisted her up in his arms, and carried her out into the water.

"Those two are insane," Alice said, laughing from where she was sitting next to Emma's vacated lawn chair. "She's always been a lot to handle, so she's perfect for him."

"Yeah," Alma said, gently nudging Seth's legs up a bit so she could sit down. "It's nice she has someone to hang out with. I don't feel so guilty leaving her."

"So you don't think you'll move back down here?" Alice asked, seeming a little annoyed at having to ask.

Alma smiled, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "Probably not," she said. "Can't stay anywhere for too long, anyway. Besides, my family are all up north. Doesn't make sense."

Jasper took that moment to emerge, drenched from head to toe, out of the water. He raced up the beach, whooping like a teenage boy after his first lay, waving his arms over his head. Alma laughed, tossing her head back. The dwindling sunlight made her hair look orange-pink, and made her face appear flushed and younger. Alice squealed when Jasper picked her up in a tight hug, effectively soaking her from head to toe.

The last month had been an interesting one. After Alma came out of her funk, she'd quit her job, telling Seth she had more than enough in savings from her current and previous jobs just to stay at home. Then she'd announced that she needed a vacation. So Seth placed a few phone calls, and a week later, they met Jasper, Alice, Edward, Bella and Nahuel at the airport in Corpus Christi for a week at Alma's little house. Alice had called to say that the weather would be very patchy, with enough cloud cover to allow them to go outside and sightseeing during the day, and enough sun to give a beautiful sunset at night. Edward and Bella had stayed for two days before heading off to New Orleans, where Jake and Nessie were joining them the next day. Tonight was the last night Jasper and Alice would be here, as well, before they left to trek around the country and visit old friends. Nahuel had convinced Emma to come with him to visit his family in South America and would be driving down through Mexico tomorrow.

It was the last night with people here, and Seth couldn't complain. Not that he wasn't happy with the people here. It was just that Alma's house was so tiny it barely fit the five of them who needed to sleep.

Tomorrow, it would be silent…

_Stage 1—Astronomical _

The next morning, everyone was up and moving early. Nahuel and Emma left at two a.m. and got on the road, giving hugs, kisses, and handshakes to their friends before, laughing, climbing into Emma's car to go off on their "adventure," as they were calling it. Jasper and Alice left a few minutes after, Alice having seen that the traffic would be difficult and it would look strange if there was a sparkling car interior in Dallas traffic. Jacob and Renesmee were the last ones to leave. They left for Corpus Christi at four, after making promises that they would all see each other back in Denver in a week.

And just like that, Seth had Alma all to himself for the first time.

It was five now, and Alma was packing up a cooler to take out to the beach. At her insistence, they'd stayed up all night to bid their guests farewell, and also to do something Seth had never actually done before.

He was going to lay back, relax, drink a beer, smoke some weed, and enjoy a beautiful sunrise over the Gulf of Mexico.

Outside, in the early morning twilight, when the light was just starting to show, Alma lit a joint and cracked open a beer. She sat back and relaxed while, next to her, Seth lit his own joint. He'd become quite the smoking pro since he'd met her, and, as Jacob put it, found his inner pothead. It was funny, really, that Seth had found a woman who allowed him to have a good time and did it right along with him. Right now, having a good time was relaxing before sunrise.

"You know how they say there's five stages of grief?" Alma asked suddenly. "I think I was grieving for a death I could have caused."

"Oh, God," Seth said, and he laughed. "You psychoanalyzed yourself?"

She raised her eyebrow. "I'm a shrink, by profession," she said. "Of course I psychoanalyzed myself." She grinned and settled back in her lounge chair a little further. "I think I've finally settled into acceptance. It's nice."

"What are the other four stages?" Seth asked, curious.

"Stage one is denial. Denial, like, 'I wouldn't really have done it or anything.' Then there's stage two, which is anger." She inhaled her joint again and exhaled as she continued her speech. "Anger directed entirely at myself, which is the worst kind of anger in a lot of ways. The anger one can direct at others can often come from misunderstanding or denial, but the anger directed at oneself can do a lot more damage, because it's always harder to get over yourself then someone else. Stage three is bargaining."

"When did you ever bargained?"

She winced a little. "I thought if I bargained with God that I'd never do it again, you wouldn't go anywhere."

Seth reached over and took her hand, holding it between them. "I wasn't ever going anywhere. I've told you that."

"I know." Alma's smile was a little bitter. "Again, you're your own worst enemy. Stage four is depression, and that can go on forever. Then you hit stage five, which is acceptance. And I realized yesterday that I'm not depressed anymore, and I'm just now starting to accept what I am, that I can't change it, and if that happens, it's not worth making four months of my life a haze." She sighed, and squeezed his hand. "Too heavy?"

"Not if you wanted to get it off your chest, it's not," he said, and he squeezed back. As he looked back at the sky, he thought of a subject change.

"Did you know there's three kinds of twilight, like three stages?" he asked.

"Yes," Alma said, laughing. "They're much prettier to talk about."

"Like right now?" Seth said. "I know I have about a little over an hour before the sun comes up."

"Yes, that would be astronomical twilight, followed by nautical, then civil twilights."

"Then sunrise."

"Yep."

They were quiet for a little bit, after that, just soaking in the soft sound of waves washing against the soft sand of the gulf shore.

_Stage 2—Nautical _

After about fifteen minutes, Seth decided it had been too quiet and he was too buzzed to behave himself. Making an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom, Seth meandered down the beach a little until he was just out of her line of sight. He entered the gulf, held his breath, and swam under the water along the shore until he was more or less in front of her. Glancing carefully above the waves, he could see that her eyes were closed as she took a drink of her beer. Diving back under, he phased before leaping out and running full tilt across the sand. Alma's blue eyes opened, and she squealed with laughter when he skidded to a stop next to her, shaking the water from his fur and drenching her.

"You asshole," she laughed, shaking her hands out. "I'm all wet."

Seth made a show of panting at her words and jumping around, and she proceeded to collapse into a ball of giggles. He approached her slowly, and licked her face from her neck, up past her ears. She didn't stop laughing, and the sound made him feel so young and light. He stood over her before, concentrating, carefully phasing back to human. He landed on his hands and knees over her and was greeted to the sight of her smiling red lips and bright blue eyes. He pressed a kiss against her neck before reaching down to pull her shirt over her head. In the dim light, her skin was pale and ethereal, and he made it his point to take his time and kiss every new inch of skin he uncovered.

_Stage 3—Civil_

He was trying to drive her crazy. As the sun slowly crept toward the horizon, lightening the sky, Seth slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, dragged his lips over her flesh.

Against the skin at the crook of her elbow, he placed kisses that fluttered like a butterfly's wings. When he reached the curve of her waist, just before her hips flared out, he placed wet, hot openmouthed kisses that made her moan. He teased her bellybutton, inhaled the skin between her breasts, and made love to her ankles with his mouth. She was a writhing, soaked blob on the sand by the time he slowly made his way back up. It was like he was timing his foreplay on her body with the sunrise.

She expected him to take her swiftly when he deliberately removed his clothes, but he folded them next to hers and lay down next to her, continuing the paths of his lips with his fingers.

"Baby," she moaned, and he chuckled. "Stop teasing."

"Okay," Seth said brightly, and he rolled onto his back, folded his hands behind his head, and stared up at the sky, which had started to be tinged with orange, beaming from ear to ear.

"I didn't mean stop everything," she said, laughing.

"What did you want me to do?" he asked, still grinning.

"I was kinda hoping you'd wanna screw me on the beach," Alma said, honestly.

A split second later, he was on top of her again, his erection between her legs, and his face buried in her neck. "You want me?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Yes," she breathed, gasping when his ever-questing fingers found her nipples and twisted.

"You sure?"

She nodded, and when he pulled back to look at her one last time, his face made her gulp. His eyes were on fire, blazing with internal heat. "Watch the sun, Alma," he whispered, his voice intense. "I want you to watch the sunrise while I make love to you."

The sun rose a few minutes later, and Alma watched it through new eyes. The oranges, reds, pinks, and purples were brighter, more vivid, than ever before while he moved inside her, bringing her to heights she'd never dreamt of before. His lips moved against her ear, whispering sweet nothings and words of love to her, encouraging her when she cried out in overwhelming pleasure again and again.

He finally joined her when the purples had faded to a paler, dark blue in the west, and the reds to orange in the east.

They lay on the beach, still connected, until it had lit the entire sky.

_a/n Seriously, I'm feeling one more chapter is about all I can squeeze out of this. For real. Leave me a review!_


	10. Imperial Memories

_a/n Final chapter. Enjoy :)_

**CHAPTER 10—IMPERIAL MEMORIES**

Snow was on the ground again, but Alma's sharp eyes noted the differences of where she was now, as opposed to where she was a few days ago. There weren't mountains, just a lot of trees and some hills. Looking out over the field, she breathed in the crisp night air and cleared her head a little before reaching for the remote for the stereo in her car and turned up the radio.

"I remember when this song came out," she said, smiling. "I used to play the record on the little player I got my hands on."

"Did you believe it?"

"I did then." Alma lit a cigarette and leaned a bit more on the hood, giving it a loving pat as she did so. "Came out right after I bought the car."

"I can't believe you had this car the whole time we've been together, and I've never even heard about it!" Seth mock pouted a little, but she knew he was still a little bitter.

A delighted laugh escaped from her lips. "A girl's gotta have a little mystery."

"Yeah, but keeping a 1959 Chrysler Imperial from me is just mean," he said. "I can't believe you have this car."

"I had a good time in Vegas," she said. "I took three gangsters for a walk at the blackjack table. For some reason," she said, her eyes twinkling, "they were having a hard time getting their words out. Seemed like their mouths were a little flabby." She took a drag of her cigarette, grinning. "Musta been all those Tom Collins somebody kept ordering." She laughed at the memory. "That was where I won the money for the car to get me back to Texas, and the house when I got there."

"And nobody ever tried to track you down or anything?" She knew Seth had a hard time, sometimes, wrapping his head around her age. "They didn't look you up or anything?"

She grinned wickedly. "You could get away with a lot more back then." She rubbed the hood again. "I bought my baby and was so in love with it, I locked it up. Drove her to keep her in shape, washed and waxed it. This is only the second time she's left Texas, except for when I first got her."

"'She?'" Seth asked, eyebrows going up. "Does _she_ have a name?"

"Consuelo." The grin widened. "It means consolation in Spanish. I looked at her as my consolation prize for getting stuck with Maria. I was going through a rebellious stage. Wanted something she couldn't have. So I won my money, bought a car, and got a storage unit for it. Every time she made me miserable, I thought of my car. When I left, the first thing I did was get her back and drive her from California to Texas on Route 66 with the windows down, smoking grass, picking up hitchhikers." She felt her eyes sliding out of focus, the memories pulling her back…

_August 1969_

_The dry Arizona heat didn't phase Alma as she stepped out of the Imperial, feeling better than she'd felt in years. Better than she'd felt when she'd bought her little piece of freedom. It had been two weeks, and Maria hadn't followed her. Alma had called her a few days ago, and the Mexican woman assured Alma she knew better than to sneak up on her. She gave no hint of her whereabouts, although Maria was curious, and had hung up, satisfied._

_Sure she looked a riot, Alma closed the door behind her, gnawing on her gum to keep herself contained as the attendant walked toward her. She watched from behind her glasses while he raked his eyes up and down her body. She could probably get arrested for wearing the tiny short shorts with a men's dress shirt, tied to bare her midriff and rolled up to her elbows. The crazy yellow, Italian leather shoes probably didn't subtract from the appeal she knew she gave off. Why did everyone have to stare when she was just dressed for comfort?_

_She tossed the keys to the attendant, instructed him to fill the car with gas, and headed inside. The man behind the counter stared at her, and she glared at him._

"_Hey," she barked, and his head jolted. "I'm up here, jackass."_

_The man sputtered a little, but didn't blurt out anything she could make sense of._

"_Y'all got Lucky Strikes?" she asked._

"_Yes, ma'am," the idiot said, and he fumbled around to get them for her. "Anything else?"_

"_No." She glanced outside. "Just gas." She put a five dollar bill down on the counter. "That should cover it. Keep the change."_

_Back outside, the kid was still pumping her gas. He was also smoking a cigarette, and she raised her eyebrows at him._

"_Ain't that supposed to be dangerous?" she asked._

_The kid laughed. "If I were gonna throw it on the ground, it would be." He held it out to her, but when she waved her own fresh pack at him, he just chuckled, handing her the cigarette anyway. "Go with me on this one, baby," he said._

"_Call me baby again and you ain't gonna have to worry about havin' any," she growled, before inhaling._

_It wasn't tobacco._

_Fifteen minutes later, the kid from the gas station had turned in his apron, grabbed his bag, and hopped in Alma's car. He rolled another joint, and they smoked while they drove._

"_I still can't believe I stuck it to him like that," the kid laughed._

"_So what's so important in New York that you have to go?" she asked._

"_There's this music festival in two weeks," he said. "They're saying it's gonna be one for the books."_

"_Well, like I told ya, I can take you as far as Texas," she said. "Then you're on your own."_

"_That's just fine, Miss Alma," he said, smiling._

_Over the next hour, she learned that his name was Joey Anderson, he was 18 years old, he loved cars and therefore hers, and he had no desire to go home. He wanted to start over…_

_It was the first time she'd conversed with a human, and she found it comforting not to talk about blood, battle tactics, blood, territory, and more blood. He told her about the people he'd seen on their way to California, and how he longed to go, but there was nothing for him in L.A. New York was where he wanted to be._

_Outside of Flagstaff, another human was along the side of the road, thumb out, long skirt fluttering in the breeze. Alma pulled the Imperial over._

"_Where you headed?" she asked._

"_New York," the girl said. She stuck out a hand. "I'm Mary."_

_Alma carefully shook the girl's hand. It was soft, and warm. "Whereabouts in New York?"_

"_There's this concert gonna be in two weeks," she said, grinning. "I don't have a car, so I'm starting over now."_

"_No shit," Alma said, laughing. "Well, I'll cart you as far as Amarillo, then you're on your own, but Joey here's going to that concert, too."_

"_Where you headed after you drop us off?" Joey asked._

"_Houston." Her decision was made. "I'm going to an Astros game. Then down south, probably past Corpus Christi. Looking for a new house."_

"_You're going to go to an Astros game instead of the greatest concert of all time?" Mary asked, raising her eyebrows._

"_I'm not much into all the hippie shit," Alma replied, smiling. "No offence. Just not my style."_

_The rest of the drive to Amarillo was fairly uneventful. Alma pulled over for four hours to sleep, long after the other two had dozed off, and woken before them. She passively observed, a skill she'd honed with Maria, and noticed that there was a great deal of chemistry between the two…_

_In Port Mansfield, eight years later, she received a call from a friend. She'd smiled, a little bittersweet, when she'd opened her paper to see a picture of a married couple with the words, "Thank You Alma Thomas. Married 5 Years," underneath._

_It was the Woodstock couple._

Alma recalled the memory to Seth, and he stared at her, entranced. "I still can't get over how old you are," he said, shaking his head. "It's weird."

"You think that's weird?" She gave a bitter laugh and leaned against the car. "I saw the World Trade Center go _up_." When he stared at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes and told him another story.

_New York City, April, 1973_

_Alma let her feet dangle, smiling down at the new shoes on her feet. They perfectly matched her sleeveless navy blue sweater, which went with the yellow shorts she'd bought yesterday. Her splurge outfit was perfect for her plans for the evening._

_It had only taken her two and a half years to get her bachelor's degree in psychology. Just enough time away from Texas, and far away from Maria, to suit her for several decades. It was just enough time for Alma, who needed little sleep, to earn a good living as a bartender and support her growing habit of smoking cigarettes. Enough time for fashion to advance a tiny bit, and enough for the economy to start to slip, when you observed with a trained eye that had seen a recession before. Enough time to freak people out a little and make them a little more scared of drugs, but also enough time for a new, powdered beast to make its presence known. Enough time for the world to change._

_Also, just enough time for the New York skyline to change._

_They'd grown up fast, taken over the whole damn view. It was amazing to see it all lit up, dwarfing the Empire State Building. To her altered brain, it was an eyeful. She was going to stay awake all night and watch the city not sleep._

_Below her, cars still whizzed across the bridge, going to and from Brooklyn, but without the mass volume of afternoon and evening traffic. Yellow cabs, lights on and off, were predominant in the leisurely flow. Raising her beer to her lips, Alma downed the rest of it before tossing the bottle onto the top of a trash barge going under her, and having the satisfaction of seeing the driver look around in a little confusion before shrugging and looking forward again._

_She stayed perched on the Brooklyn Bridge for a while longer, staring at the newly erected buildings. They really were overwhelming. Some people honestly hated them, thought they were an ugly eyesore, but most of what Alma heard was awe. It did intrigue her to see what weak little humans were capable of, given the right technology._

_And they really were beautiful._

_Around three in the morning, Alma made her way down and wandered the streets of Manhattan for a while, still a little amazed that the city really did run all night. Restaurants were open everywhere she passed, and she could see people inside, laughing and conversing. Ahead of her, a pair of young men strolled side by side, passing a joint back and forth between them, recalling the night's events. It sounded like a doozie._

_Alma had long since decided she was meant to be alone. She'd dated a few boys at school, but none of them could stand up to her. She'd be fine._

_Alone, she walked back to the garage where she'd left the car. The valet quickly rushed off with her keys, and a few minutes later, slowly crawled toward her. She rolled her eyes. She'd certainly scared the shit out of the kid by now, threatening him with his life if there was a single ding on her car, which had had enough time to become a classic by now._

_The sky was starting to turn pink as she barreled out of New York in Consuela, her two suitcases in her trunk with the golf clubs she could no longer live without. Back to her lazy summer mornings and gulf view of the sunrise._

"You did all of that on your own?" Seth was frowning now. "You never had friends, or anything?"

"Sort of," she said, cocking her head. "I knew I couldn't get attached to anyone, and couldn't let them attach to me, so I just had acquaintances I was friendly with. And no," she added when he started to open his mouth, "you can't hear that story." She laughed. "I've got too many for one night, darlin.'"

Seth smiled. "Fine. You were wrong, though."

"About what?"

"Being alone," he said, and his watch beeped. He grinned at her. "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas." She leaned across to press a kiss against his lips. "And don't think it's not possible to get tired of me. It could happen. Hopefully not, though."

"Hopefully not," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket, "or else this would have been a waste of a lot of money."

In the little space between them, he placed a little black box, and her eyes immediately zeroed in on it. It wasn't possible…

When she didn't move, he picked it up like no big deal—like Seth—and popped it open. "Two karats," he said, nodding as if he were a jeweler. "I'm told Texas girl like things big." He waggled his eyebrows, and despite her shock, Alma burst out laughing.

Only Seth.

He didn't wait for an answer, just slid the ring onto her finger. "You're stuck with me," he said, grinning. "So I'm not even gonna ask."

The force behind Alma's kiss actually knocked them both off the car and into a snow drift. Seth laughed while she attacked his face with her lips before pulling back to look at the ring that now dazzled from her finger.

Time to own up.

"I like jewelry," she blurted out. "And designer clothes. But don't tell Alice. I don't get them all the time, and I don't want her to kill it for me."

"So you like your ring?" he asked.

"Yes!" She laughed, holding her hand out to stare while she snuggled against his side. "I'm a girl. So who helped you?"

Seth's eyes twinkled. "Edward."

Alma's jaw dropped. "You asshole!" she shrieked, and he laughed again, the sound permeating the air. She'd get to hear that laugh forever. "I thought you were being weird yesterday. Couldn't figure out since when I can't be around when you two play Halo."

"We're good that way." Seth pulled her tighter against his chest. "Mine," he rumbled, and she laughed.

"Yours," she agreed. Forever.

_a/n Sorry it wasn't sappy. They're not sappy people._

_Hope you enjoyed! Maybe sometime, when I feel the urge, I'll write an epilogue, but for now, I'm content with where they've landed._

_Now go to my profile and read "Life and Death with the Original Succubus." Review everything. Seriously. I'll be sad if you don't._

_Thanks for all your reviews and lovin'! You're all beautiful people!_


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